Play to Your Hand
by random.corruption
Summary: Thinking themselves safe again but without a hero, Gotham doesn't realize just how uncontrollable The Joker is. Arkam can't hold him for long. This is the story of his escape and return to the throne of terror, with help from an unwilling female accomplic
1. Chapter 1

{A/N: I know I dropped my other story sorta, but I got some inspiration to write this. I am fascinated by the Joker, namely the portrayal in Dark Night. This guy really did put a smile on my face. I mean come on, explosions, knives, guns, and a love of all things anarchal and chaotic. Hello, do you see my user name? So this story is late, but it's hopefully going to be good. For this one I get to dive into the psyche of someone crazy...er than me.

p.s. It helps if you read this and think of The Joker with all his wild gesticulating and the voice.}

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Prologue: Words from The Joker**

You know…a Joker is a funny thing, when playing cards of course, it always depends on the game whether it's good or bad. Say you're playing spades, a joker's a good thing because you've got the highest trump. But now Old Maid…never did like old maid myself, the joker is the last thing you want in your hand. When I don't have the luxury of getting to play some of my more favored games, you can distinguish these from the others by the explosions and uh-screams, I only play the games where the joker is a wild card. Why? Well, it makes things terribly unpredictable.

I uh, I like to use this method, among others, when out attending to my other hobbies. I like to try and make things unpredictable. I don't have plans and blueprints, I don't scheme, I never, _never_ strategize…I like to see what I do as, as inspirational chaos. Yes, you may argue that planting bombs in places takes a bit of planning, but the point is that I don't have a big picture. There is no grand scheme. I do what I do, and that is all. Frankly, it tickles me to see the havoc and terror.

I'm more free than anyone in Gotham City because I don't have plans. They all live on loops; wakeup, eat, get ready for the day, go to whatever it is they do every other monotonous day, come home, eat, go to bed. Repeat until you die. They just don't see that they're all like little ants marching in the same line. Now, when I was a kid, I used to lick my finger and slide it over the line, this interrupts the scent trail that they follow to get somewhere, the ants didn't know where to go and they started to go nuts. Same thing happens with people really, you mess up the line and get everything out of order, they start running around with even less of a clue that they had before. I'm doing a public service, if I may be so bold, because I'm showing them just how fragile they really are. And the Batman…well…well let us just say that he's somewhere in between. He desperately wants to be an ant and have everything all ordered and right, but he can't because there are wasps out there who are looking for a bit of fun (like me) and Mr. HeroComplex feels like he is the only one who can protect his fellow ants. To do that, you gotta break a few rules. You have to get out of line. And there, he contradicts himself…A man who puts on a mask to keep everything all lined up on the shelf with his right hand, but is pocketing the stuff with his left.

Doesn't instill a whole lot of confidence in said hero, does it?

Alas, morally, he is incorruptible. That's why I had to go for Dent to make the city crumble. He was easy. He may have been a bit tougher, but he got lost just like the rest of the ants. Now, I-uh…I like to take credit for something like that, I really do. However, causing the fall of the great Batman would be like getting a incindiary bomb for Christmas. I need to see how far I can push until he breaks. Beautiful little Rachel was step one, Harvey was two, and turning Gotham against their once beloved hero was three. I wonder what step four will be. As I previously implied, I am the man _without_ a plan. And that's why I'm so much fun.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

{Thanks for reading, I hope you all are excited. But this is the only chapter from his P.O.V. The rest will be narrative. Oh, and no this isn't Beta-ed, and I hardly proof read, I'll make sure to do it next time.}


	2. 1: Now you don't

{A/N: I'm always excited for chapter one of a new story. This one was okay, getting they story rolling and all, but I'm looking forward to nimber two. I know it seems mighty generic right now, but I'm going to try and make it good. I actually had to cut this one off because it was going on too long. Anyway, enjoy the first official chapter.{

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**1: Now you don't**

Four months, and twenty six days had passed since the Joker had been caught and locked up in Arkham. Contrary to what most would have thought, The Joker didn't find this at all his prison. He thought of himself as more of a transient within the padded walls. He was waiting for the right moment was all. He was going to get out of course. No building known to man had yet held The Joker against his will. Right now he was letting things stew. The city had been in shambles the last time he'd brought his own unique brand of terror to its streets, and he was letting them build back up. All the more fun to tear them down again when they thought they were safe. And as for Batman…Well, the joker would be catching up with him again soon. He really was missing his old friend and all the good times they had playing together.

The Joker looked around the small and dingy room. He wasn't a man of excess, but the room was as empty as a skeleton. A plastic-covered light bulb, a toilet, a plastic mirror set into the wall; all designed so that he couldn't make a weapon from any of it. Even the mattress in the corner was special ordered, lest he get any ideas about stabbing the staff with a spring. He chuckled to himself. They were idiots.

"Almost time," he muttered to no one, looking at an imaginary clock on the wall. He couldn't ever tell what time of day it was because he had no devices for such and no window to estimate by the position of the sun. No matter, he had it fairly well guess by the routine meals and bed checks that occurred throughout the day. They had to keep to a schedule after all. He grinned, bringing a hand up to run through his hair.

-------------------------------

Desiree sighed loudly as she retreated to the safety of the employee break room. She moved toward one of the three empty chairs and collapsed into it, groaning at the undeniable hell that was her life. Her friend, Monica West, looked at her over her cup of coffee.

"What now?" she asked.

Desiree lifted her head from her forearm and sighed again, this time more softly. "I hate this job."

"Yeah, who the hell doesn't?"

Desiree rolled her eyes at her friends suck-it-up attitude. She had started working at this job only three weeks ago, but it seemed much, much longer. It wasn't that her job was hard, just do bed checks every half hour in the women's ward and mark the patients presence. Easy. No, it was the residents of Arkham Asylum that she didn't like. The ones she came into contact with were non-threats, ones who had no violent tendencies, but they were crazy none the less. She really felt bad for them; all cooped up in here virtually alone because no one understood them. They were lifers. You didn't get into Arkham unless you were grade A, 100% nuts. Most of the women were older ladies, but a few were her age or younger. She could easily picture herself in their place, and that creeped her out.

Monica checked her watch. "Shit, I've got to do checks in Ward 5. Come with and you can tell me all about it." They got up and went toward the elevator. It came fairly quickly, and as soon as the doors opened they boarded and pressed the button to sub-basement B.

Monica had been working here going on ten years, which was probably the only reason she was aloud near the patients of Ward 5. Ward 5 was reserved for the most ruthless, homicidal, psychotic, and sociopathic patients of Arkham. It gave Desiree chills just thinking about what was in those cells. She didn't get how Monica could do it every single day; the woman was a rock.

Monica shook her black curls out of her eyes and tapped her pen on her clipboard. She looked bored.

'_All in a day's work for Wonder Woman'_, Desiree supposed.

The elevator lurched to a stop and the doors opened with a creak. Desiree wasn't sure if it was just her, but everything seemed down here seemed to soak up the atmosphere. Even the elevator became more menacing…not that she thought elevators were scary. They approached a heavy door that lead to the guard room. You had to go through the guard room to actually get to the patient hall. Security was first priority on this floor.

"So, what's the issue?" Monica questioned absent-mindedly as she went through her key ring to find the right one. She located it and unlocked the door before Desiree answered.

"Uh…the patients. I don't know, it's just depressing is all. It makes me think of my dad in a way." Desiree confessed.

Her father had come down with Alzheimer's disease about a year ago, and now he was in an assisted care facility. At first she'd stayed home and taken care of him herself, but his pension from the factory he used to work at ran out and she had to get a job. It was too risky to leave him alone; at that point he didn't know where he lived or even recognize her face. So she had to make a choice. She chose to take care of him the only way she had left. That's how she ended up getting a job here. A friend of a friend was in the administrations department and the rest is history.

"Well hon, you just have to remember why you're doing this then, don't you?" She said it with a smile, knowing that Desiree had given up a lot to care for her father. She felt proud of the girl for having the guts.

"You're right."

They entered the guard room and the two men. One resident and the actual guard were behind the desk, both with eyes glued to a small TV. Apparently you didn't have a lot of things to fill your day down here.

The guard, who must have been pushing into his mid-fifties, looked up. He gave a small wave and made a note on the sheet in front of him.

"Hey there Monica. Have a good lunch?" he asked.

"Yeah, until this one decided I was Oprah and had to solve her problems," she joked.

The man smiled. He nudged the young resident with an elbow. "Hector, time to work."

Hector, a six foot-six man of some kind of Island descent, stood and stretched. Desiree was awed. His bicep was bigger that her head. She was sure Hector must have been hired for just this reason, because who else would you want around in case one of these lunatics got the better of you?

Hector noticed Desiree staring and gave her a wink. "You should come down here more often cutie."

"Don't you start…" the security guard warned in a fatherly tone.

Hector made a rude gesture. "Eh, whatever old-timer."

Monica suddenly tapped Desiree's shoulder. She leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Sweetie, it seems my body is betraying me." Desiree cocked an eyebrow. She didn't get it. "I'm having my special monthly visitor?" Monica tried again.

"Oh!" Desiree exclaimed softly. She looked down at Monica's clipboard. "What about bed checks?"

There were two thing you absolutely never did at Arkham. You never steal medical supplies, and you _never_ miss bed checks.

"You think that you can cover me on this one?" Monica pleaded.

Desiree's eyes widened. Her, check on the Ward 5 patients? No way. She shook her head.

"Please, I'll owe you one. Hector will be with you. You'll be as safe as houses."

Desiree looked from Hector to Monica, a skeptical look on her face. "Houses burn down."

Monica shoved the clipboard in her hand and gave her the keys and her ID badge. "You'll do fine, just don't talk to any of them, okay?" She leaned around the Desiree and shouted to the guard. "Desiree is going to be doing my checks today, alright Phil?"

"I don't know, Monica…"

"It's an emergency, trust me."

With that Monica was in the elevator and jamming her thumb into the button. The doors slid shut and she was gone.

Desiree looked around for some kind of help, but found none. She was going to have to do this. She clipped the badge to her pants and adjusted the clipboard, taking the keys into her free hand. Hector came over and put a hand on her shoulder. She wanted to shrug it off, but didn't want to be rude.

"It's okay, I can take care of you. We'll be a great team."

He steered her to the door. She ran the badge through the reader and when the light at the top went from red to green, she unlocked the door with the key. The hallway beyond was long, dark, and eerie. The doors were heavy steel with a small window to look through. In the canter of the door was the device that allowed you to push the food trays through without having to actually go inside. Desiree liked that idea. She went to the first door and peeked timidly through the thick glass. A pair of eyes stared wildly at her from the other side. The man let out a loud shriek and she jumped back.

Hector laughed. "You have to watch out, these guys love to screw with you." Clearly he though she was a wimp and incapable of even this simple of a task. She decided Hector was not one of her favorite people. She marked cellmate 62794, Markus Thatcher, as accounted for and turned on her heel to the door behind her. They went on in this fashion until they got to the last two doors.

She knew who was here. The last two additions to Ward 5 were infamous. The first was none other than the former psychopharmacologist of Arkham, Dr. Jonathan Crane. Also known as the Scarecrow. She had seen him only a few times, but she was shocked as anyone when what he was doing turned up. He became a victim of his own methods, thanks to Batman, and was locked up nice and tight. The other…was The Joker. He had the city at his feet only a few months ago until Batman once again saved the day. Desiree was saddened that the whole city was against him now; he was only trying to help. What happened to Harvey Dent was a little shady, and she didn't quite believe what the papers and new were saying. She didn't believe that Batman did it. He was good.

Desiree nervously leaned forward to look into Crane's cell. He was on his bed, looking at the wall opposite him. He was muttering rapidly to himself, but when she peaked in he stopped and turned to look at her. A smile pulled at his lips and he said something directly to her.. She couldn't hear him through the thick door, and was grateful for that. Next was none other than the Clown Prince of Crime himself, The Joker.

Hector had stayed a little behind when they got to these last two doors and all of the sudden seemed very interested in his fingernails. Desiree scoffed. _'Some protector he is.'_ She peered through the eight by eight inch window and looked around. No Joker. She even tried getting really close to check right next to the door, but she still couldn't' see him. It was then that she noticed the light in the room was off. Her heart skipped a beat. He was gone. She knew the guy was an escape artist, but this was impossible. There was no way that he got out of there, let alone without a single person seeing him.

"Hector…" Desiree began slowly. "The Joker is missing."

Hector came over and pushed her out of the way. He looked around much in the same fashion she did before a worried…no, terrified expression came to his face. A visible bead of sweat rolled down his temple. "Shit! Shit, shit, shit!"

He picked up his walkie and pressed the call button. "Phil, give me a visual on cell 66561."

They waited in tense silence for a few seconds. The radio crackled and Phil's voice came through. "No visual. I repeat, no visual. You want me to signal the alarm?"

Hector pressed the button again. "I'm going in to make sure, gimme a second."

"Copy."

Hector took his own set of keys and stuck the appropriate key into the slot. Desiree's hand shot out to stop him before he turned the lock. "Hector, don't. This is all way too fishy. What if it's a trap?"

"I have to see, it's my job."

"Is it worth your life?" she demanded. "Let Phil call for back up."

Hector shook his head. "Naw, I can take him. I just can't let him get me by surprise."

Before she could stop him, he turned the key and the handle to the door. They both waited, anticipating the worst, but seconds passed and not a peep. Desiree turned and saw Dr. Crane at his window, peering out in interest. Her eyes met his and he smiled again. He nodded down the hall and mouthed 'He went that way'. Her brow furrowed and she turned away to watch Hector enter the cell. He stood in the middle of the room and looked around. He turned back to her and shrugged before going to look around. Her heart started pounding, her mind raced to think of all the places he could be hiding.

A dark shadow dropped from the doorframe and she gasped in shock. He somehow had gotten above the doorframe and stayed out of sight. She realized he must have held on to the water pipe that ran near the ceiling along the room. It was an old building and this was the basement, they didn't bother doing internal pipes down here.

She tried to yell to warn Hector, but her vocal chords were paralyzed from fear. She tried again as the figure approached his back. This time she manages to rasp out a harsh "Watch out!", but it was too late. Hector turned and the Joker, having quickly removed Hector's keys from his possession, slashed his throat. Hector choked and sputtered, calling for help but only letting out a sick gurgling sound. Desiree watched in horror as he sank to his knees and fell face-first to the ground.

"Now you see me," The Joker said gleefully to Hector's dead body.

Not wasting another moment, Desiree turned and ran. She could hear the maniacal laughter of all the inmates as she sprinted by. She didn't know how they all knew what was going on, but she didn't care. She was going to get the fuck out of here. She was feet from the door now; she fumbled with the keys, desperately searching for the right one. She found it, and with a cry of joy, shoved it into the lock.

A force like a freight train barreled into her and slammed her into the door. She was crushed into the steed and then crumpled to the ground. Even before she had a second to look up, a bloody set of keys found its way to her neck. She froze, waiting for them to picture through and cause her to bleed out like Hector.

"Now, you probably shouldn't move, I've been locked up in that bitty box for quite a while and I'm feeling a bit antsy." The Joker's warned her. She knew his voice, she heard it on TV when they played the tape of him killing the fake Batman. It played for weeks afterward. "I'm going to need your help to get out of here, alright-" he looked over her shoulder to see her nametag "Desiree?"

She gulped and nodded almost imperceptibly. She didn't want him to think she was making any sudden moves. He patted her head.

"Good girl. Now you tell good ol' Phil in there that everything is a-okay in here, got it?"

She let out a sob and he pushed the key into her skin until the point where it started to break the skin. "Yes! Yes," she agreed.

His other hand came around with the walkie and he pushed the call button.

"Uh, Phil," she gasped.

"Hey, is everything alright in there? I heard a bang."

"Yeah, just a false alarm. Me and Hector will be there in a second."

The Joker dropped the walkie and grabbed Desiree by the back of her neck, keeping the keys to her tender throat. "Nice job there sweetheart. Now open the door."

She did as she was told and turned the key and the handle to the door. He shoved her through and in a flash was jumping over the desk, tackling poor Phil out of his chair. She heard the dull thuds and eventually the wet smacking noises of Phil being stabbed to death with a set of keys. She wanted to vomit at the thought. She got to her feet and started toward the door, but a hand grabbed her hair and she nearly ripped a chunk of it out from her own momentum. She tried not to fall as she regained her balance, The Joker still fisting most of her hair.

"Here I thought we had and agreement…" he sighed. She couldn't see his face, and was grateful. She was sure if she got a good look at his scars that she'd be a blubbering mess. "Tell me Des, do you want to die?"

She shook her head.

"You know who I am?"

Confused, she nodded this time.

"Then you know that uh, if you do that again, I'm going to have to discipline you. You don't want that."

Mortified at the prospect she shook her head once more.

"Good to see we're on the same page now." He leaned over her shoulder, lips brushing her ear. She shuddered so violently that her teeth chattered together. He laughed cruelly. "Let's go let some of the animals out of their cages, shall we?"

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

{A/N: An voila, there it is. Magic...}


	3. 2: Can I have a volunteer?

{A/N: Just to warn you; there's a bit of gore in this chapter. I personally don't think it's all that bad, but there are some squeemish people out there. So yeah, this is another pretty long one and hopefully I can get into the storyline a little bit more...Which would be good considering this is a story.}

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**2: Can I have a volunteer?**

Desiree choked. "_Let them out?_" she cried. "Are you insane?"

The Joker paused, a disbelieving smile split his face from ear to ear. "Uh, you do know where we are, don't you? And they say I'm the crazy one. Oh well, they do say it's hard to find good help these days." He had for the most part stopped talking to her and was now hauling the girl to her feet. He shoved her along back into the long hall. "Hmm…who to invite to the party?"

Desiree couldn't let him do this. If he let any of these freaks out then people would die. She wouldn't have innocent blood on her hands. "Please," she began, the picture of pleading complete with tears trailing down her cheeks and her eye makeup smudged, but The Joker would have none of it.

He gave her hair a little jerk to expose more of her neck. "Don't start begging Desiree, it's unbecoming of a lady. Now before the liberation begins…" They retreated back to his cell where Hector's body still lay. Desiree turned to look away, and The Joker let her. She retreated to the corner and ducked down, unwilling to look at the gore behind her. He went to the body, and tore a sleeve off of Hector's shirt. He tied it carefully over the lower half of his face and as a finishing touch, ran a finger into Hector's pooling blood and traced scars from the tip of one to the other.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he turned to Desiree who was still cowering in the corner. He wrapped the hand without keys around her throat, his fingers digging in to pinch her windpipe slightly. She let out a yelp. He dragged her out into the hall again and over to a particular door. He looked at the bloody mass of keys and found the one to the cell off to their left 57328, Oswald Fenton, mass murderer and arsonist. Yes, he would do just fine. He also let go Jerimiah McDall, the man responsible for the slayings of thirteen women and four dogs, and Rodney Rhetton, identity thief, murderer, and technological prodigy. They were all lifers, they were all mentally off the charts. The three men stood about for a few moments, not sure what to do. They were nuts sure, but they knew they weren't supposed to go out.

"Sit," The Joker commanded with a snide smile. They stayed where they were, and McDall even took it literally.

Desiree was never more terrified in her life than she was right now. In a room with four psychopathic murderers was just about the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone. "You can't let them out, they'll kill people."

"Don't worry, they're just a little distraction. I don't care if they get caught. I just want…what's behind door number three." He said the last as they moved to Dr. Crane's door. He was still peering out, his striking eyes, assessing them both. "Does the Scarecrow want to play?" The Joker called through the thick barrier of the door.

Crane nodded and looked down at Desiree.

"Now if I let you out, are you going to play nice?"

Crane seemed to consider it for a second. "Depends on who I'm playing with."

"Good answer."

The Joker unlocked his cell and Crane stepped out looking calm and poised. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well uh, first off, I think I might go tidy up. Then, I want to continue my game with a certain molded-leather clad nuisance. But- my tragically ironic friend- I need you to go make some of that special inhalant that you make so well."

Dr. Crane looked suspicious. "Oh? And what for, may I ask?"

The Joker shrugged. "I don't really know yet, but I'm sure it's going to be the even t of the season."

"Where do you want me to take it?"

The Joker bent and sniffed Desiree's hair. It reminded him of coconuts. "I'll find you."

Crane looked slightly displeased at the thought of being at the command of The Joker and that he had the power to find him wherever he might be at any given time. On the other hand, he did let him out of that confining little box. He stuck out a hand. "Deal."

The Joker looked at his hand, and a moment later Crane got the hint and dropped it.

"So, time to go topside," The Joker mused aloud. "What ever shall I wear for my coming out party?" He looked down at the back of Desiree's head. "Where are my possessions?"

"Uh, I-I don't know…Maybe at the police station. They might be using it for evidence when your trial comes up," she guessed. "The evidence locker at GPD is my best idea."

Desiree was more scared than she'd ever been in her life, but she was very certain that she shouldn't piss any of these guys off, especially the one with the keys ready at her neck.

"You're so smart, I like that in a woman," The Joker told her as they turned toward the direction of the elevator. They started forward, Dr. Crane a pace behind them. "We're going to get out of here and uh- you are going to be a good little hostage and not try anything…stupid. Clear?"

Desiree nodded. "Ridiculously so."

"Then you are going to drive me to run a few errands."

She swallowed hard, partially from fear and partially from The Joker's previous iron grip he had on her airway. "Errands?"

The Joker laughed in the anticipation of being back on the streets doing what he loved. Things were going to be fantastically terrible. "Yes my little pigeon; we're going shopping."

They entered the elevator all together, the three decoys, Jonathan Crane, The Joker, and Desiree. Dr. Crane pushed the 1 button, it lead to the lobby and ground-level of Arkham. As the elevator went up Desiree felt claustrophobic. She was trying her hardest not to break down, she was sure if The Joker thought she was getting in the way, he'd kill her.

Two floors later they were at level 1. The doors opened with a pleasant ding, and the chaos began. Fenton, McDall, and Rhetton tore out of the elevator and split off. and The Joker waited for the screaming to start before they exited. Desiree was forced to go along. The lobby was in complete disorder. The three men had effectively incited pandemonium within seconds. Between shouts, the occasional gunshot, and laughter, Desiree heard the growl of satisfaction come from The Joker. They walked across the floor like the two criminals owned the world. They were free and they were going to make sure everyone was wise to that fact. With one last glance, Desiree saw people cowering in corners or anywhere they could, and the men she had helped release closing in for the kill.

This was all her fault.

They pushed through the front doors and went out onto the steps as the escapee alert began blaring loudly. The Joker took a deep breath of the crisp night air. "Ah, what a beautiful night. Perfect for a little fun." The descended the steps and approached the parked cars in the lot. "Now which one is yours, huh?" Desiree reached into her pocket of her loose cotton workpants. She found her car key and tried to hand them over. The Joker didn't take them. "Oh no, you're driving." He let her go and she went around to the driver's side door to unlock it. To her dismay, he followed close behind to make sure she didn't try anything idiotic, like escaping. She pressed the unlock button and all of the door locks clicked open. Crane got into the back on the opposite side and The Joker got into the seat behind her.

"Des, I want you to take us, uh- quickly mind you, to the Gotham Police Department. You think you can do that?"

She nodded and turned the engine over. Trying to drive extra carefully, she drove down the driveway. She didn't want her nerves to get the better of her and crash he car. _'Although, if I did crash the car then I might get rid of these loonies forever,'_ she thought. The guard at the station was nowhere to be seen. He must have been attending to the alarm set off in the asylum. They could hear police sirens in the distance, which meant that they didn't have much time. Dr. Crane threw open his door and sprinted into the shack. He found the gate control and engaged it. The huge iron gates began to open outward and he got back in. Desiree crept through and looked both ways to make sure it was safe.

"Punch it!" The Joker yelled. The sirens were close now, less than a half a minute away.

Desiree's foot slammed onto the gas and they peeled out onto the road. The tail end squirreled around before she finally got control and continued on. They were headed in the opposite direction, but still back into the city. It was a tense few minutes for Desiree. She felt like an accomplice…like it was her fault that any of this to happen. She should have tried harder to stop Hector and not listened to The Joker's commands, but she just didn't want to die.

As they got into the city she slowed down. The traffic was heavier and she had to be less conspicuous. As she turned down each street she wished for a police officer to spot them though. If they did then she may not be saved, but a lot of people would be spared. The Joker wasn't exactly known for being merciful.

Finally, they got to Gotham P.D. and stopped right out front. Desiree went to turn off the car, but she got a key jabbed into her neck for her actions. It didn't break through, but it made her get the idea that she wasn't to move just yet.

"Why don't you turn on the radio so we can hear if the city is a-buzz with our little self-liberation movement?"

Desiree did as she was asked, and sure enough, as soon as she turned on the radio the alert broadcast poured through the speakers.

"_ –do not yet know exactly which of the prisoners escaped, but it is believed to be some of the most highly dangerous and volatile criminals of the city's history. Police are said to be releasing the names as soon as they get things fully underway. Citizens are urged to stay indoors if possible until the crisis is resolved. The police are out in full force, combing the local area to look for the whereabouts of the unaccounted for inmates. This breakout of Arkham Asylum's facilities is unprecedented. Never have five patients ever escaped at once. The police would like to remind you that these are criminally insane men and that if you see one or more of them to not approach. They all have past violent charges and are considered to be homicidal…This news just in: A source tells us that this may be a hostage situation. A young girl is reported as missing by her coworker and was last seen in the ward that the criminals broke out of. Officials of the asylum say they do not know what this employee was doing there because she did not have the proper clearance. Could it be that this girl was part of the escape or is she another victim of this highly tragic event?_

_More news later; This is Felicia Roday, signing off…_"

"They think I had something to do with this?!" Desiree exclaimed in utter disbelief.

The Joker and Crane laughed from their seats behind her.

"How interesting," Dr. Crane mused. "Poor little girl gets kidnapped and now she's in with the criminals. Does no one have sympathy for Desiree?"

"Shut it bag-face," Desiree snapped.

In an instant he leaned over the seat and struck the side of her face so hard she saw stars. Her hand came up and pressed to the spot, her mouth slightly agape. He had a frown on his face that twisted his face unpleasantly.

"Don't you ever tell me to shut up you little bitch," he hissed.

The Joker, clearly enjoying himself in the midst of the mild violence, put an arm between them. "Now, now children…If you can't play nice then I'm going to have to punish you both. Right now we have some _work_ to do." He gave Desiree a prod with the keys. "Get out."

They all exited the car. The Joker resumed his position behind Desiree with one hand on the nape of her neck and the other with the keys in a sensitive area by a vein. They walked right up the steps of the police department and went in. The main area seemed pretty empty. Desiree assumed they were all out looking for the escapees. Looked like they were a distraction for more than just their escape.

The only one there was a older cop at the front desk…and he was asleep. Crane went to him and leaned over the desk. The cop's gun was right on top next to a sign in sheet. He picked it up and eyed it for a few seconds, turned it over, then got a firm grip on it. He lowered it to the cop's head as his finger slid in next to the trigger.

"No!" Desiree shrieked when she realized what was happening. The officer had just enough time to start awake and see that someone was pointing a gun at him before…BANG! The gunshot echoed for a few seconds after in the room. Desiree's ears rang, but she didn't notice. She was unavoidably focused on the man. His head had just been blown halfway off, leaving a gaping hole messed with blood and things that Desiree didn't want to think about. The rest of the contents of his head were splattered across the desk, bits of flesh and skull fragments littering the polished wood.

Desiree felt bile rising up from her stomach. She leaned over and vomited until long after the contents of her stomach were gone and she was dry-heaving. She had seen enough death today, and this one just put her over the edge.

Dr. Crane eyed her afterward in disgust. "Weak girl, can't even handle a gunshot wound."

"All better now?" The Joker asked her, cackling.

How he found this amusing, Desiree couldn't fathom. They were both just insane.

"Let's please get our things before the whole of the police force shows up," Dr. Crane suggested. The Joker nodded and Dr. Crane grabbed the dead officer's keys.

The Joker let him lead the way down a flight of stairs off to the right and through a door. At the end of a short hall was a door marked 'EVIDENCE'. Dr. Crane seemed to know which key fit, perhaps from when he actually worked with the police and before his operation was exposed. Once inside, they stared at the shelves. There were rows and rows, each with a large number of white labeled boxes. How were they ever going to find anything in here? Crane went to a small computer desk and typed something in.

"You need box 1097. It's row seven."

The Joker tugged Desiree and she was forced to follow. They found the row quickly, but it was a few minutes before they found the box. It was on the very bottom.

"Would you do me a favor and pick that up?" The Joker requested. Desiree knew that was no request though. She promptly grabbed the handle on each side and awaited her next instructions. "Time to go." They went back to the door where Crane was waiting with his own box. "See you around Scarecrow. Don't forget our deal."

He didn't wait for a response, he just shoved Desiree ahead of him and out of the police station. They got back into the car and Desiree pulled away from the curb.

"N-Now where are we going?" she asked, afraid of what he might say. What if he had nothing else for her to do for him? If she outran her usefulness then he'd surely kill her.

"We're going home, I have to look my best for my comeback debut."

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

{A/N: To the Joker Lair!}


	4. 3:Death defying exhibitions

{A/N: This one's a tad bit shorter, but I had a lot of fun writing it. You get a lot of description in it, so if you like that then yay. If not...why are you reading? Go watch TV.}

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**3: Death defying exhibition**

The Joker told Desiree to pull into the underground lot of an old apartment building in the old industrial district. God knows this place had seen far better days. In the seventies it was as pretty a place you could get working on a factory worker's salary. Now though, it was run-down and decrepit. The old bricks held up even though the mortar between them was worn by time and weather. The fire escape was of no use anymore and was badly rusted. Most of the windows were broken and boarded. Desiree could hardly imagine what this place looked like when it was full of people and families trying to make their day to day living. It just seemed so…dead.

Underneath wasn't much better; the cement columns were chipped and pipes were leaking water at a steady pace. Frankly, she was surprised that this place even had water. Who would pay to keep the water on in such a place? Surely no one _lived_ here. There were cars though, more than ten. They weren't covered in cobwebs or dust, so they were still being used.

"Is this where you live?" Desiree questioned in disgust.

The Joker looked around as the car came to a halt and Desiree put on the parking break. "What, you don't like it? I was going to go with the mansion, but I thought it a bit…"- he paused to lick his lips slowly as he searched for the right word. "ostentatious."

He got out of the car and opened her door for her. She sat there, unmoving. If she went in there then she might never come out. This might have been her last chance to escape. All she had to do was get back to the parking entrance and then maybe she could outrun him. Deciding on her plan of action, she was going to try and catch him by surprise. She unbuckled her seatbelt and got carefully out of the seat. When she was halfway up she shoved her body with all the force she could muster into the door that The Joker was standing behind. It connected and he let out a 'oomph', before doubling over with the wind knocked out of him.

Desiree made a run for it. She took herself as fast as her legs could carry her and faster than they had ever gone before. She raced past the parked vehicles, not daring to look back to see if The Joker was in pursuit. She made it to the entrance and out onto the street. She paused to see which way she should go, one way dead-ended and the other looked like it went for a while. Being the only option though, that's the way she decided to go. A second later she heard the deafening screech of tires on asphalt and barely had time to turn her head and see The Joker behind the wheel of the car, her car, she had only a moment ago been driving before it connected with her body and the metaphorical lights went out.

One last thing went through her mind before he hit her. "Holy shi-"

-----------------------------

She was swimming through blackness, trying to find right side up, but she kept feeling dizzy. It was like she had ridden the tilt-o-whirls a hundred times in a row and then tried to stand on level ground. She felt pain, but it was disconnected, too far for her to really get a grasp on how bad it was. She caught shreds of images as they floated past her eyes, but nothing she could really make out. For a moment she thought she was dead.

A strange noise echoed in her head and it was a few moments before she recognized the voice as her own and that it was her who had tried to speak. She must be alive then, because she could speak and she could distantly feel pain. As if that was the cue, the world suddenly fell right back into place, and along with it the excruciating pain that racked her body. Her entire left side felt like it had been crushed. She was sure that if she looked than the entire thing would be a bloody, meaty, mangled mess. Her head felt like someone had put it on the ground and tried to stomp it like a grape. Then she remembered. She tried to run, she tried to get away…The Joker had played a game of human bowling with her.

"Des…" a hauntingly familiar voice began in a tone of genuine disappointment. "I thought we uh…discussed this. You weren't going to run and I wasn't going to kill you yet." Suddenly she felt a few stinging slaps to her right cheek. A little harsher than necessary to wake a person up. She let out a pained groan. "Wake up. I want you to pay attention."

She opened her eyes and for the first time since she'd been kidnapped by him, actually came face to face with The Joker. He was in his usual getup that she'd been accustomed to seeing on the news. His purple suit had a subtle pin striping to it with a long overcoat, all tailored to fit. His vest was a green four-button with two pockets, and it seemed that he had missed the second one down. Underneath was a blue shirt with hexagon patterning cinched at the neck with a tie picked perfectly to clash. On his feet were brown leather boots that came to below his ankle with colorful square motif socks peaking out. To tie it all together was a silver chain that hung from his pocket. Clutched in the hand resting on his lap was a pair of purple leather gloves. He was sitting on a chair, slouching only slightly, with one anke resting atop his knee.

In her head Desiree was partially amused by his outfit. "_I've been kidnapped by the clown version of Prince with even less fashion sense"_, she thought. She even noted that his hair was tinted green again, which it hadn't been before when she saw him, or the back of him rather, killing Hector at the asylum. Then, his slightly curling locks had been brown. She was almost going to laugh at something so ridiculous as a grown man dressed like this.

That was, until she saw his face; the face that had terrorized the city of Gotham so irrevocably that it would never be likely to forget. His complexion was made ghostly white with paint, but mottled and smudged here and there making it look grimy and frightening. The dark black around that his eyes seeped into creases and wrinkles to emphasize the darkness of his irises and made them look like pits that had no bottom. She faltered in thought as she came to the most noticeable of features- the scars. The jagged lines extending from the corners of his crooked smile were highlighted with red, messily as if to force you to take note of the disfiguration, so that your eyes went straight to them and could not pull away. It was ghastly.

Desiree felt as if all of the air had been sucked from the room. Before it hadn't seemed real, maybe a nightmare she just hadn't awoken from even with the pain, but this…this made things very real. In that instant, Desiree wanted nothing more than to scream until her throat could take no more.

His lips pressed together before pulling them apart with an audible pop. "Y'know, I'm glad you did this really. Now you know just how…_willing_ I am to go through on my word. I said if you tried something stupid, I'd have to chastise you. Soooo….say you're sorry." He brought the fingers of the hand not holding his gloves to rest under his chin. Anticipation played along his face. Desiree glared at him. "I'm waiting," he sang.

Desiree couldn't help but scoff. The gall of this man…this thing! "You hit me with a car!" she screamed.

His eyebrows went up a little. "Yes, thank you for clarifying that fact. I'd appreciate a little volume control by the way." He emphasized this by putting his index finger and thumb on an imaginary volume knob and turning it down.

"All I tried to do was the natural thing _to_ do!" Desiree continued, more livid than a moment before. She started to shake with rage and tears flowed down her cheeks from the frustration and fear. "You took me hostage and killed innocent people in front of me! You should have stayed locked up you monster…you freak!"

In a flash he was in front of her. The chair he'd been sitting on clattered violently to the floor behind him. He took hold of her head with both of his hands in a vice-like grip that amplified the pain in her head tenfold. It nearly made her sick. His face was millimeters from her, so she knew from this very clear vantage point that he…was…mad. Her eyes widened in terror as his body leaned over hers like a predator with the prey already in its jaws.

"Don't EVER call me that!" he yelled so loudly that Desiree could feel the tension in his body that was needed to create such a thing.

She just sat there, trembling and frozen, between his hands and staring like a deer in the headlights.

"Now, what have you got to say to me?" he said, much more quietly. His voice had a hint of a rasp to it now from the shout.

She moved her jaw a bit to see if it would actually work with her being so scared. "Sorry."

"For?" His hair had spilled into his eyes, and he was looking intently at her from behind the curtain of it. It made him look crazier…if possible.

She let out some air that she'd been holding in without her notice, and took a measured breath. "I'm very sorry for insulting you and trying to escape...and hitting you with a car door."

He released her head with a little shove. "Good." He was all smiles again as he straightened up and began pulling his gloves onto his hands. When he was finished he pushed his hair back, once again revealing his painted face. "I forgive you sweetheart. But just so you know, do it again and I'll do worse than hit you with a Buick." He laughed loudly, a slight cackle to it, like he had just told a funny joke.

Desiree didn't think any of this was very funny at all.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

{A/N: And...scene. So Des got a little dumb here, but it's understandable. Sure as shit I'd be trying to escape if that psycho caught me. On the other hand, he's a pretty awesome m---er f-cker in a demented way. You know you always wanted to blow stuff up like that and set piles of cash on fire. Okay, maybe not that last one, but don't you wish that a) you had that much money, and b) you were cool enough not to care about money so much that you wouldn't care if you lit it on fire. Bad ass move there. I'm going to stop now.

p.s. This is the new copy. The last one was so horribly un-proofed that I actually could not stand it if I didn't come back and change it.}


	5. 4: Behind the curtain

**4: Behind the curtain**

The Joker looked like he was getting ready to go somewhere. Desiree had no objections to this, she would love for him to be as far away from her as possible, but she wanted to know _where_ he was going. Though, she didn't want to ask. He didn't seem to like it a whole lot when she opened her mouth lately. She just watched him out of the corner of her eye as he went to a table and put some of the things on it into his pocket. Desiree saw a lot of knives. She had heard that it was his favorite weapon.

"Sorry to leave you alone, but I have to go downstairs and rally the troops. They've been waiting for me ever since they heard I got out. You might've uh-noticed their mass of vehicles in the garage." He finished putting the various objects into his many pockets, but kept one knife in his hand. It was a four or five inch switchblade that gleamed even in the dim light indoors. He came to stand in front of Desiree. She was looking up at him in fear, which she rightly should. The Joker always referred to himself as a man you shouldn't cross. He never said it to brag, but they evidence _did_ seem to point that way. He took the knife and placed the flat side of the tip on top of her cheekbone. The point made a dimple in the soft flesh under her eye. Her dark blue eyes widened enough so that they might have popped out of her head if he chose to strike it. Her skin paled even more than it already was. Gotham was not a bright city, and even when it was, the tall buildings seemed to cast enough shadows to keep the sun at bay. Seeing that he could make an already pale girl paler; this put a grin on his face. He put a gloved fingertip to her nose. With every few words he spoke, he gave the tip of her nose a little tap.

"You be a good girl while I'm at work. When I come back we can have a little chat. Would you like that?"

Desiree had no choice but to nod even though the last thing she would ever choose to do would be to have any type of conversation with him. She kept her mouth clamped tight lest she feel the need for anymore outbursts.

The Joker stood and went to the door. He turned the knob, but just as he was about to open it, he let go. He put a finger up as if he had forgotten something and remembered it at the last second. "There is just one little thing…" He went back to the table and grabbed a roll of duct tape from it and pulled the end up. How he accomplished that with gloves on, Desiree couldn't fathom. She could hardly do it when there was already a corner up. She guessed that he must've worked with a lot of duct tape in his lifetime. An unsettling notion. Grinning evilly, he approached her. She shrank back into the armchair she was in, trying to hide in its massive cushions. When he got near enough, she just accepted defeat and stuck out her hands, wrists together. She knew he was going to have it his way and there was no option b. To her confusion, he shook his head.

"Get on the bed," he commanded. She looked at the large four-poster with reproach. She was repulsed at the thought of what he might do if he got her on that bed and immobilized. The Joker caught on and rolled his eyes. "Oh relax…Someone must think a lot of themself, eh? You think that_ I_ want to sleep with _you_? What uh, just because I'm a man and you're a woman I have to want to have sex with you? That's very narcissistic of you Des…" He motioned for her to get up and she did so quickly, slightly relieved even though she only had his word. The word of a knife-wielding, murdering, sociopath clown. She sat back towards the wall and knew he was going to have her put her hands through the bars of the bed frame so she did so before he even had to ask. The more she anticipated what he wanted her to do, the better. Hopefully, it would lead to less beating, threatening, and vehicular assault. He proceeded wrapping the tape around her wrists, not tightly enough to completely cut off circulation, but just enough to make it uncomfortable. When he was finished, he picked up off his last words. "Hmm…Besides, if I wanted to roll you around in the sack, I'd want your hands free. I like it when they fight back."

Too shocked to respond, Desiree just watched as he went to the door, this time opening it and stepping through the frame. He looked back at her.

"Miss me beautiful." He blew her a kiss and shut the door. She could hear him laughing hysterically in the next room. Then there was the slam of a door and the laughing continued.

"Oh dear lord," Desiree whispered to herself. "What am I going to do?"

Now that she was alone she could momentarily take her tension down from a 10 to an 8. At least it was somewhat of a break…She took these precious minutes to assess two things; the damage to her body and the room she was now in.

Some one must have carried her inside, for she had specifically remembered getting hit by the car in the street, of course not in the bedroom she had woken up in. It was dingy and badly lit with furniture crammed into the limited space. Aside from the bed and the armchair that she had already been acquainted with, there was a dresser, a small nightstand, and multiple mismatched bookshelves crammed with boxes of wires, blueprints, tools, and various other objects. Even the floors looked like they were in disrepair; they were discolored, scratched, and dented. The wallpaper was peeling at the edges where the glue had disintegrated from time and it had the yellow hint to it that all paper got if it managed to survive long enough. She wondered what was in the rest of the…apartment?...looked like. She was pretty sure she was in one of the units in the building they had originally planned on going in.

She shifted uncomfortably. The window was painted over with black so that only a little light filtered in where the paint was thinner. There wasn't much to see anyhow.

She couldn't look at her body to see just how bad the bruising was, so all she could do was go by feeling. Her left leg was in the most pain, it throbbed horribly and just felt like it had been smashed. He left arm was sore, but not bad until it got up to her shoulder where there was a sharper pain. Her head was definitely worse for wear. The side of her face and head had most likely collided with the car when she went up on the hood. She was even fairly sure she had a concussion.

She twisted her wrists in an attempt to loosen the tape, but The Joker had wrapped them well. Sighing, she slumped back against the wall. She thought about trying to escape again but if he'd hit her with a car last time, then what would he do this time? He told her, with heavy ominous overtones, that she would not do well to try that again.

_'What am I supposed to do?'_ she thought. _'I can't run and I can't stay here. Even if I did get away, who knows if he could find me again? What if he got to dad?'_

That thought terrified her. Her dad was the only family she had left. Her whole world was him. He's why she stopped going to school, he's why she got a job, he was her reason for doing everything. She didn't blame him, no, it was simply a fact. She loved him and would do anything to help him. He would do the same thing for her if the situation was turned around and it was her in his place. He had right up until it got really bad.

Closing her eyes, she repeatedly thumped her head against the wall. It hurt, but it helped her think.

_'I could run and risk dad. I could stay and risk dying. If that happened, at least I have a life insurance policy that would cover dad's aid expenses for a few years. I guess I don't really have a choice…'_

----------------------

The Joker didn't even try to control his laughter as he entered the room full of his henchmen. Eventually it tapered off, all the men in the room, which used to be the apartment building's community room, stared at him like he'd made a miraculous return from the dead. With a flourish, he straightened his jacket and ran a hand through his tangled hair.

"_Boys_, you must've been so sad since I've been away."

There was a resounding uneasy mumbling that made the smile on The Joker's face widen. They were afraid. Good to know he'd left a lasting impression. One of the men, a large one in a dark tee-shirt, spoke up.

"Boss, how did you get out? That place is a fortress."

"Wellll….It was all thanks to the staff there. They were so wonderfully accommodating. Now before you ask anymore time-wasting questions, I want you all to tell me what you've been up to, what Gotham's been up to, and most importantly…what Batman has been up to."

They all looked around at each other. The same man spoke up again. The Joker assumed that this man had become his unofficial replacement while he was incarcerated. He would have to be taken back down a few notches, just to make sure he didn't have any ideas about keeping his place at the pinnacle of the hierarchy.

The man cleared his throat. "Boss- Mr. Joker, sir, we've been waiting for you. All of us have been pretty low profile since you got taken in. We knew you'd get out so we didn't want to get into any big projects. Gotham's afraid right now though, because Batman's gone. He hasn't been seen since the night you got taken in, but truth be told, there hasn't been a reason for him to be back out."

The Joker pondered this. The fool was wrong; there was a much more interesting reason to why the bat wasn't fluttering through the cold night skies of Gotham. '

_He hadn't been seen since I went in, he said. Batman was a man whose morals were indestructible, so he wouldn't be gone for good. What then, could be so jarring that he would ignore the petty criminal activity that still plagued the city?' _

The Joker would find out soon enough, but for now he wanted to get started.

"So, the Bat's vanished…Well, I think we can make him come out of hiding. But how….Yes! Who feels like going out tonight? I think we need to celebrate my return, don't you?" The men nodded their heads. "Later we're going to go pay a visit to the patrons of The Axiom, maybe have a few laughs. Sound like fun?"

The men nodded.

"We'll see just how much blood it takes for the bat to come out of his cozy little cave."

Now that The Joker had a party to attend, he thought it best to bring a few gifts. For that he needed to get some supplies. He thought this a good time to start delegating off some of the smaller chores. He could do the main task with a two man team.

"You," he said, pointing to the man in the black shirt who'd been the first to speak up. "Since you seem halfway competent, you're coming with me. He picked out another face, one he hadn't seen before, and surmised was fairly new to the 'life of crime' business. "And you. Get a van, get supplies, and meet me in the garage in twenty minutes."

The young man looked like he was about to ask a question. "Wh-" He stopped, uncertain, and thought better not to ask. He just went off quickly. The Joker was happy that he could still strike fear into the hearts of aspiring delinquents.

The Joker's eyes followed him until he disappeared through the door at the back of the room. Then he turned back to the group. "Now…uh, as for the rest of you, you'll have some jobs too. Two of you go to the lumberyard and pick up a couple of bags of sawdust…I'm thinking-uh pine. Nice and absorbent. Another two of you go take some tanks and get some gas. I want you to get a lot. Some for vehicles, the less we're out in the public eye when we're not cavorting, the better. The rest for playing. Now the remainder of you; split up and go to the local hardware stores. We need heavy paper, cardboard or plastic tubes, and a lot of long wire...Make sure there's enough to make some caps too. Get going now."

The men split up and departed, aside from the one in the black shirt. He lingered for a moment. He rubbed the back of his neck before sidling up to The Joker. The Joker slid a sideways glance at him.

"Sir, looks like we're doing something big tonight…all the boys are gonna be out. What're we gonna do with that girl we picked up on the street? Are we just going to leave her here while we're gone?"

The Joker grabbed a hold of the man's shaggy hair and pulled his head back so quickly that the man was sure to have whiplash. An instant later a blade edge bit into the cartilage-protected front of his neck. "We? There is no we. There is me…and uh, then there's all of you. That girl isn't your concern, your tasks are your concern. I know that while I was gone your head got full of big ideas because these little moron lemmings turned to you when I got momentarily retained, but you remember who is top around here. Remember your place."

With that, he let go and the man fell backward on the floor, crab-walking backward until he was far away from The Joker. The Joker paced slowly toward him, his boot heels making a resonating thunk on the hardwood floor with each step. His knife danced in his hand as he crouched down. The man thought he was going to die, The Joker could see it all over his face. The Joker laughed loudly, amused by terror as usual, his teeth fully showing. He put the knife away and leaned in closer to the little coward.

"Don't think me cruel…I just have a few social issues. But-uh, I'm only trying to help you out, I hear the boss around here is nuts."

He got up and headed back toward the stairs, chuckling darkly. Now that that was taken care of, he just had to get a few things before he left.

_'I must admit that the punk brought up a plausibly difficult point. The girl is an issue..a, a liability. I shouldn't leave her here alone. She may escape…So what to do, what to do? No one will be here, so that's not an problem. What I need is to ensure she doesn't get out. As much as I love duct tape, handcuffs, and other means of restraint, I don't trust them enough to hold her for sure. That girl is going to be feisty, I can already tell. She's been docile up till now, but when I start pushing she's going to push back. I need leverage.'_

As he finished these thoughts he walked up to his door and into the small apartment. He could hear some banging and clattering coming from the bedroom and went to the door. He pressed his ear to the wood to listen.

"Damn it!" Desiree shouted. This made The Joker grin. He wasn't pleased that it sounded as if she was once again trying to sneak away, but the fact that she was frustrated was nice. "Ouch! Just loosen up a little you son of a b-"

The Joker threw the door open and folded his arms. Desiree froze in place. She had, a moment before, been trying to give her wrists some circulation room. The tape had been cutting it off for the past twenty minutes.

"Sweetheart, what-uh…are you attempting, with absolutely no success, to do _exactly_?"

She looked about fifty times between her taped wrists and him. She started stuttering. "I-I-I know what it looks like, bu-but it isn't… The tape was just too tight, and it was cutting off my circulation! My hands were getting cold from blood-loss. I wasn't going anywhere, I swear. I was just getting the tape to not be quite so tight."

The Joker understood. He could have let it go even without a second thought, but this was The Joker. He went out of the room and into the kitchen, he grabbed a glass off the counter and filled it with water from the tap. Then he went about rummaging in the drawers. He talked to her as he did so. "Desiree I'm nothing if not an understanding man. I'm not going to kill you for trying to make yourself more comfortable." He found what he was looking for in a miniature plastic ziplock bag. He opened it and took out one of the small blue pills, dropping it into the water and letting it dissolve. He gave it a little swirl to distribute the substance. "You need not be so paranoid." He went back into the room and over to her. "I am a busy man cupcake, which means that sometimes I'm going to have to depart from you. I will leave you with some convenience though; here, drink this," he said mock-absent mindedly.

She eyed the glass but put her lips to it as he offered, thinking it better not to deny when he was being kind…or whatever this was. She drank until it was all gone, grimacing when she took the last swallow. It was bitter.

_'Water isn't bitter.'_

She looked up at The Joker who was smirking so much that it should have hurt.

"What did you…" she asked in a mumble as whatever it was in the water hit her in the form of a forceful wall of drowsiness. Her back pressed into the wall as she started to fade away. Her head lolled to the side. Her eyes closed, and Desiree was dead to the world.

"Looks like we're both going to be out tonight," The Joker said to himself and Desiree's slumbering form. He thought about it for a moment and turned away. "That pun was just horrible."

{A/N: A really long chapter. 6 pages on word with single spacing. That's about as long as the first chapter…the official one. Anyhow, thanks for reading and especially for all of the positive comments I've been receiving. You guys are really great and what you have to say means a lot. Don't be afraid of criticism, as long as it's constructive.


	6. 5: The art of misdirection

**5: The art of misdirection**

The Axiom was the place to be on a Friday or Saturday night in Gotham. It was where all of the wealthy, and coincidentally the people who wanted to be rich but were not, could get together and do whatever they pleased without the nuisance of prying eyes. It was dark, the music was loud, and the women were, more often than not, scantily clad. This was where The Joker had arrived with his van full of 'friends' and his bag full of 'party favors' to have a good time.

The black van rolled to a stop at the curb in front of the entrance and the door rolled open. People standing in line outside were expecting a large party of important guests, but they were highly frightened when they were instead greeted by a flood of clown-masked men with an assortment of automatic weapons. The Joker himself, waited a moment before climbing out. He wanted to make an entrance. People immediately started screaming and looking for a way to run, but The Joker's men surrounded them, pressed them into a small group by the door.

"Now everyone," The Joker announced loudly, using a sawed-off shotgun to gain attention. The entire crowd hushed in a second. The Joker had that effect on people sometimes. He grinned so widely that his teeth showed and the corners of his eyes crinkled. When his face relaxed it left lines where the paint wore off from the contact at the corner of his eyes. "We're all going to go inside and uh-see what this place has got to offer. I'm in the mood for a party, aren't you?"

"Hey freak!" A deep voice called out from somewhere right near the door. A bouncer pushed his way through the people in front of him so that he could be seen. He pointed a finger at The Joker. "Listen buddy, you ain't gonna boss us around. I'm not afraid of no thug like you. Batman's gonna show up soon to kick your sideshow ass pretty soon."

The Joker's eyebrow rose as the man continued his tirade. He slowly raised the shotgun and cocked it. The man's eyes didn't even have time to widen before the blast of the gun rang out loudly. The man collapsed with a hole the size of a softball in his chest. The Joker pursed his lips and walked forward, hovering over the man. He chuckled a little when he saw the man choking on his own blood.

"I'm counting on it."

He stood up and listened to the screams of the crowd who were still trapped and hopelessly scared like a rabbit caught in a snare. He pumped the slide of his Mossberg 500 again and aimed it at the crowd. They shut up like someone had hit an invisible mute button on the world. "Li-listen, listen…Like I was saying ladies and gentlemen before I was so rudely interrupted….I'm here to have a good time. Now uh, why don't we all head inside and see where the night takes us?"

The people started to herd inside quickly, aided by the threats of his men and the pooling blood under the bouncer. The Joker lifted his foot and rested it on the now corpse of the meat-headed fool. He sighed and shook his head. No Batman yet. He was loosing his touch.

Once everybody was in The Joker entered. His men had spread out to surround the patrons of the club who were all sitting on the ground. The Joker took a look around.

"Well, well, well, well, well, _well_…Isn't this just the most…fantastic place? I don't know why I didn't come before." All of the people stared at him in horror like it was a bad nightmare and they couldn't wake up. His dark eyes panned over them. "And my, don't you all look _bea_utiful. Gotham's most beautiful all in the same room. It reminds me of a meeting of the gods on Olympus." He began to laugh hysterically at his own joke, even thought the entire room didn't get it. The Joker didn't think these people god-like at all, in fact, he thought of them as the scum on the bottom of his shoe.

When he regained composure, he motioned to three of his men who went about to set the bombs they had painstakingly put together in the hours previous to this. They disappeared into the unseen parts of the building to do their work. The people began to whisper to each other in their state of panic, causing a chatter of unintelligible noise to rise from their cluster. Sighing again, The Joker put the barrel of the gun up, resting the back of it on his shoulder. He looked over to one of his men who promptly fired a few shots into the ceiling.

"Please don't kill us!" one of the women in the crowd begged. "We'll give you anything you want…we have money!"

The Joker cackled viciously at her bribery. "You think I need money? Lady, you'd be an idiot to think that I could be bought that easily. Besides,-" he walked forward and patted the woman on the head. She cowered away from his touch. "I don't want your money. I'm only doing this because I'm hoping an old friend will show up. You-uh…may or may not have heard of him. Tall, dark, sickeningly honorable, and dresses like an S&M flying mammal?"

The woman was trembling, her downcast eyes avoiding his face. He dropped onto his knee in front of her. "Oh, have I frightened you? Is it the gun?"

She didn't answer.

"It must be the scars then. Funny story, you wanna know how I got them?" As usual when he made up another version to this story, he brought out a knife and placed it into the corner of her mouth. She tried to struggle, so The Joker roughly grabbed her chin and held it still. Now she was forced to look at him, which was the reason she started to cry. "When I was little I had a brother…Smart, handsome, talented…All the things I was not. Mom always said he had the most beautiful smile, she'd never stop talking about it…always telling him to show his beautiful smile off. My-my parents just loved him; they treated him better than me, bought him all the toys he wanted, and forgave him for every tiny little thing he did. I was more or less ignored." He licked his lip slowly from corner to corner in the most gratuitous way he could manage. The woman instantly paled. "So one day my brother and I went down to the local lake to have a swim. And, I almost forgot, even though my parents favored my brother, I still loved him. So- we go and dive in off the dock, but my brother doesn't come up. I went under to look for him, and by the time I found him it was too late. He got tangled up in some seaweed and drowned. My parents were inconsolable…they blamed the entire thing on me of course, saying that it was all my fault that we even went swimming in the first place. Being a little kid, I assumed they were right…Things uh-things just didn't go well after that. My dad left and good ol' mom went off her rocker. One night she comes into my bedroom in the middle of the night and she's mumbling about my dead brother. She had dad's fishing knife in her hand and before I knew what was going on, she did this." He turned his head from side to side to emphasize. "And when she was done, do you know what she said?" The now balling woman shook her head. The Joker stroked her hair. "Shhhh….She said, 'My son has the most _beautiful_ smile'."

He stood up when he saw the men who had been planting bombs reenter the room, pocketing his knife and repositioning his gun. They all gave him a nod to signal that everything had gone off without a hitch. Being on a roll, The Joker wanted to tell these people exactly what was going on. He loved that sort of thing. "These men work for me, as I'm sure you already know. But…what you don't know is what we spent the better part of the day doing. We were more or less, making some bombs." More panic from the people. "What is going to happen is this; If Batman doesn't show up in the next ten minutes, those bombs are going to detonate- you should pay attention because this applies to you too- but if he does, he will possibly find a way to get all of you to safety. Well, maybe not all of you..."

"Why are you doing this to us?" a tearing redhead asked. "What have we done?"

The Joker rolled his eyes. "Despite your self-centric beliefs, this has absolutely nothing to do with you."

"But-but-" the woman began to babble. The Joker cut her off.

"Y'know, if I had anything against you personally you'd know it, because you'd be wishing you were dead right now."

Turning on his heel, he went to the bar and hopped up so that he was sitting on the counter.

_'Where are you?"_, he wondered. This was referring to a certain caped crusader who by his previous standards was running terribly late. He couldn't help but be disappointed. In the distance, a siren wailed. The familiar sound made him grimace.

"Gordon…" he groaned to himself. This wasn't a surprise though, he had expected this and was ready. It was just that he was hoping the bat would show up first. He got off the counter and looked at the clock on the wall. There was only four minutes before this building would be a "crater", and it didn't look like the guest of honor was going to show. "Well folks, it seems that Batman just doesn't care about your paltry, insignificant lives. Perhaps he's given up his creed of heroics, which isn't fortunate for you. Being that I don't want to be either arrested or incinerated, my men and I will be taking our leave. Thank you, you've been wonderful hosts and we're most gracious for that. Goodnight."

They made for the door all at the same time, guns still pointed into the crowd so that they didn't attempt to follow. They could hear the sounds of the people as they got closer to their deaths; wails of despair and lost hope. When the door was closed they took a piece of rebar and slid it through the handle so no one could get out. The Joker looked down the street and could see the spinning red and blue lights of the police cars as they turned the corner. He smiled. They would be too late. Wonderful.

He was the last to get into the awaiting van, lingering on his scene of immanent chaos. He almost considered staying to watch it all play out, but no, he would wait for something bigger, something more worthwhile. He rolled the door shut and sat back into his seat, not bothering to watch as the cops swarmed The Axiom. No one followed; they were more concerned with the hostages than they were with the capture of a criminal- even one as bad as him.

--------------------------

Exactly three minutes and twelve seconds after The Joker and his men departed from The Axiom, the bombs went off. Gordon had only evacuated over ten people and many of his men were still inside.

Meanwhile across town, the bombs planted in the Major Crimes Division of Gotham P.D. simultaneously exploded. In an instant the entire floor was gutted and engulfed in flame. Gordon's office was decimated in less than a second.

Earlier in the day they had spent a lot of time making a large quantity of dynamite; those were the bombs that went off in the police headquarters. The ones at the Axiom were merely full of teargas. Those bombs filled the entire building with a thick cloud of suffocating smoke, eventually filtering out onto the streets. Gordon looked up at the building thanking god that this hadn't been a real bomb. He choked on the smoke and watched as his men kept escorting people out of the club, but now with gasmasks on. His eyes and nose watered, all of his respiratory system filled with sharp stinging. It was a small price to pay.

He looked around, feeling the absence of the bat signal projected onto the constant cloud cover of the city. Where was he? He had seemed sure a few months back after the incident with Harvey Dent that he could shoulder the weight of both the city's hate and their need for him to protect them. Maybe he had overestimated himself. Had he turned in his mask and left the life of a savior behind?

Gordon shook his head at the thought. No…No, Batman wouldn't-couldn't do that. He was determined to be just and stand up for the people of this city, he wouldn't abandon them. Where ever he was, he would be back, Gordon was sure of it. He could hold the fort until then.

Gordon's cell chirped at him. He unclipped it from his belt and flipped it open as he raised it to his ear. "Gordon."

"Sir! Oh thank God! Are you alright?" a relieved voice asked urgently.

Gordon's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Of course, why?"

There was a pause. "Commissioner, the entire MCD has bee blown to shit. We think that The Joker planned The Axiom situation as a diversion. This place is a mess. The entire fire department is here trying to control the blaze."

Gordon whirled on the spot, halfway expecting The Joker to be behind him. Assured that her wasn't, he took off his glasses and wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. "That son of a bitch."

----------------------

The Joker entered the small apartment, satisfied to an extent with the day's work. For only having a few hours to do this, it went well. He had come up with the fantastic idea to blow up the police station first, The Axiom was merely to facilitate the ease. The idea was to get all of the cops, or at least most of them, out before he blew it up. Actually, there would be a few, but those were necessary casualties. When the police heard about The Joker holding a bunch of rich people hostage, of course they'd come running in mass. This would make it for his other men to sneak in and plant his little creations. The point was to tell everyone, mostly Batman, that he was back to his old ways. No one was safe, and that he was going to go bigger than ever. He was building a moment, hence why he had kept casualties low, but he wanted the city to be afraid again…afraid of him.

He went through the living room and into the bedroom. For a minute, he completely forgot there was a girl being held against her will in there. He tended to get caught up in his projects though, especially when they involved Batman. There she was though, glazed eyes trying to focus on him. He grinned; tonight's fun wasn't over after all. He went to her and pulled a knife. She didn't seem to register it as he cut the tape that bound her wrists. She leaned against the foot of the bed, unable to manage much movement. She _had_ been heavily drugged. The Joker used two fingers to push her over so that she slumped onto the mattress. She groaned.

"Wha….What the…fuck…did you give…me?" she breathed so quietly that The Joker had to lean down to even understand her.

"A tranquilizer."

"Fuck…you…"

"Only if you're a good girl."

He began taking off his gloves, finger by finger. He stuffed them into the pocket of his coat and then slid his arms out of it. He threw it over the armchair and ran both of his hands over his hair to smooth it. Then, button by button, removed his vest and dropped it on the chair's seat.

Desiree watched, trying not to fall asleep. The drug made it hard for even that. Waves of blackness would wash over her every few seconds and it was a struggle not to succumb. When The Joker started to remove his shirt she dreaded what might be coming. Everything was so fuzzy, she could hardly tell where one thing began and another left off. Very distinctly though, she saw a large human shaped and colored form leave in the direction of the bathroom. He came back after a few minutes and approached the bed. Whatever he was planning for her, he was going to get. Desiree had no hope of fighting him off in her condition. She was a sitting duck.

"As much as I like the fact that there's a helpless girl in my bed that I can do whatever I please with, I have to get some beauty rest. Do you mind?" He climbed over her, wedging in between the wall and Desiree's limp body. Placing his hands on her back and one foot on her butt, he gave her a shove. She rolled off the bed and thudded to the floor. Desiree cried out as she hit the floor. The pain from her previous injuries brought back to life by the wearing off of the tranquilizer and her rough introduction to the floor. The Joker came to the edge of the bed. "Desiree, I know that you're disappointed right now, but I'm just-uh, not ready for a serious relationship. I think I deserve a girl who wants more from me than just sex. Anyway…nighty-night, sleep tight."

From the floor Desiree internally put together a string of curses that would have made sailors blush and possibly creating some new cuss words that had not before heard by human ears. She vowed that she would not only get out of here, but make The Joker pay. He had it coming tenfold what he'd done to her, that was for sure.

{A/N: Hell yeah, all done. This chapter took forever to get out. I don't know why…I hope you all like it though.}


	7. 6: Sawing a woman in half

{A/N: Sorry it's been over a week since the last one, but I've been so swamped with homework and tests that I hardly had time to sleep. But, I'm a little more free now, so I can get more done. Enjoy this one!}

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**6: Sawing a woman in half**

Desiree woke with a jolt from her deep sleep. A creaking noise had been the thing that dragged her out of her much needed slumber. She was still in the floor, still in pain, and still miserable when she looked through the bedroom door and saw The Joker rocking on the back legs of a chair in the dining room. He seemed to be contemplating something as his eyes grazed over a large piece of paper on the table. He twirled a knife between his fingers, the point of the blade digging into the table's surface.

Desiree took a deep breath and put her palms to the floor to push herself up. He left shoulder protested in agony as the muscles contracted. He whole left side still hurt, and she was a little sorry the tranquilizer had worn off and she could now feel the pain. Now shakily on her feet, she wanted to see what she looked like. It had been the worst 72 hours of her life and she was sure that she looked the part. She started toward the bathroom.

"Ah, ah, ah…." The Joker called to her. Desiree stopped in her tracks and glared back at him over her shoulder. He smiled back. "Why don't you come in and say good morning, eh sunshine?"

Desiree padded over to him and stood a ways away, hands folded over her chest because of awkwardness. She wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't looking at her, he just kept staring down at the paper. Desiree tried to make sense of it. It took a few moments to realize it was a schematic. But of what?

"So…" Desiree began lamely. She didn't know what to say to this man. He was certainly not they type of person she normally held conversation with, so she was at a loss.

"Articulate. I said you were supposed to come in and-uh say good morning and I get as you so eloquently put it _'So…'_." He dropped onto the front legs of the chair and stood up, still holding onto the knife. He turned to face her and his face lit up. "Good god, you look scarier than I do."

Desiree pushed her hair back and frowned. "I find that hard to believe."

The Joker raised his arm and gave her a good, hard slap with the back of his hand. She toppled to the floor, her hand went up to the side of her face where he had hit her. Her face throbbed. Of course he had to hit her on the bruised side. He came and squatted down beside her with a malevolent smirk playing on his lips. The man knew how to be scary, or perhaps it was just natural for him, Desiree thought. The makeup helped, that was also for sure. She tried to scuttle backwards to get away, but his hand shot out and grabbed the front of her shirt. He dragged her forward with surprising strength and put her face less than an inch from his. She could even feel his breath along her skin every so often when he exhaled. Her hand went onto his to pull his off, but she stopped when she saw the look in his eyes and dropped it.

"I like rebellion and anarchy as much as the next guy, but-uh…things work a certain way around here. I am the boss, I make the rules, you do as I say and shut your mouth and smile. I don't want to hear you whining, period. Oh and-uh, if you're going to backtalk-" he put the tip of his knife under her jaw, "I can always remove that pesky little tongue."

Desiree had tears stinging the back of her eyes, but was refusing to let them out. She was pretty sure that The Joker appreciated crying just as much as he liked her smart-aleck remarks. She nodded instead to show that she got the point. The Joker let go of her and stood up. He looked down at her with a disgusted expression and put his knife away in his vest pocket. "Go get cleaned up. Do everyone a favor and try to look presentable from now on."

Desiree did as she was told and went to the bathroom. She shut the door behind her and clicked the lock. Turning, she looked for a window. The only one was tiny and she would definitely never fit through. She slumped against the wall and couldn't stop the tears as they began to leak out. Finally, she broke down and started sobbing. She tried to be quiet so The Joker wouldn't hear her, but she was pretty sure she wasn't doing a fantastic job. It was like a waterfall; once she started going over, she couldn't stop. It was all just too much. Desiree had never been a crier, but under the circumstances she forgave herself. She _hated_ The Joker. It was a boiling, consuming sense of abhorrence toward a man that made her feel like a beaten dog. He gave her a command and she either obeyed immediately or was hit until she complied. It was so demeaning.

After another few minutes she stopped crying and she went to the sink. She peered into the cracked mirror and her eyebrows went up in surprise. She did look bad. Her makeup was smudged and running down her face. Her face was bruised from her left temple down to her cheekbone; the blackish-blue and purple center was surrounded by a sickly green. She tentatively put her fingertips to the swollen flesh. It was tender enough that even the lightest pressure made her wince. This made her curious as to what condition the rest of her body was in. Removing her long-sleeved cotton work shirt, she could see that her arm was badly bruised. To see just how far up it went she had to remove the black t-shirt underneath. It hurt to put her arm over her head, but she had to to get the shirt off. Sure enough, her shoulder was the same color as her face. In fact, it went all the way down her ribs. It skipped her waist and started back up at her hip, disappearing under the edge of her pants. She unbuttoned them and zipped down the fly. Pulling them down a bit, she felt sick at the sight. Her leg looked terrible. She was afraid of internal bleeding. The area was swollen and one spot especially had a large collection of blood right under the skin. The area was deep red. That was not good. Pulling her pants back up, she ignored it. There was nothing she could do about it now and The Joker certainly wouldn't take her to a hospital.

She washed her face carefully and combed her hair. This was considerably difficult due to the fact that it had tangled into a giant bundle on the crown of her head. The only brush there was disgustingly greasy, but it turned out that it helped detangling her hair. She was astonished that The Joker owned a brush at all really, he didn't look like he ever brushed it. Desiree put her t-shirt back on but left off her work shirt. It was uncomfortable and a little too hot in here for double layers.

When she went back into the dining room The Joker wasn't there. She started to look around for him, but he answered her first.

"You look slightly less…homeless…than before. I guess you could only work with what you had though." He cracked a smile. He was sitting on a couch in the living room with his hands folded on his lower stomach. He was slouching far enough down that it bordered on looking uncomfortable. He pointed at the cushion next to him, indicating she was to come and take a seat. She hesitated, but went anyway. She bit her lip when she sat down. The pain in her leg was making her nauseous. The Joker caught the look and smiled. "What a brave face you have Des. Let's-uh, _see_ what's going on down there."

Desiree was sure he must be playing games with her. Take her pants off to show him her leg? The one that he had caused damage to in the first place? There was no way in hell. "You can't be serious," Des said, vocalizing what was going through her head.

The Joker's smile turned down for a second, but went immediately back up. "Cupcake, I thought you got it. Apparently, I just have to uh…..beat it into your thick skull. Or, I could find another way to persuade you. How's-uh…how's your family doing these days?"

Desiree experienced a brief moment of panic. Her dad…She couldn't let The Joker get to him. Never, ever would she forgive herself if her father's death was her fault. So despite her embarrassment and personal objections to the matter, she stood up and once again undid her pants and slid them down.

The Joker had a wide, toothy grin. Her leg was a disaster. There was a spot under one part of her leg that had a lot of blood under the skin. He took out a knife. Desiree looked like a deer in the headlights when she saw the glinting metal. He beckoned her to him, but she didn't move. She was way too terrified. The Joker loved fear. He grabbed her around the waist faster than she could react to and leaned her over his shoulder. She was still standing up, her belly resting on The Joker's shoulder. Her arms were free so she tried to push off The Joker by using his back as leverage. He held her too tight…with one arm.

"Please just let me go!" she cried desperately.

"Hold still or it's going to hurt a lot more. You don't want that, do you darling?"

Frightened even more by his words, she stared beating his back. She tried violently to get away, but when she felt the sharp point of the knife on the spot right above her kidney, she stopped.

"Now that I have your undivided, I'm going to say this: Hit me again and it will be the last thing you ever do. I don't know why your puny little mind thought that was a good idea, but far be it from me to try and figure out the mind of a woman. Next, if you don't hold still I'm going to shove this blade right into your kidney and you'll bleed to death in less than an hour. So-uh you get the picture?"

Desiree made a small 'uh-huh' sound and waited. She didn't know what he was going to do or how bad it was going to hurt, but she was going to have to take it.

The Joker slid the knife over her skin, across her back and down her thigh to the swollen spot where the mass of blood was. He pressed harder into it, cutting through the skin and into the pooling red liquid. Desiree's hands fisted into his jacket, vest, and shirt. She made a squeaking sound when he had cut into her, trying to hold back the sounds of the pain. The blood flowed quickly out of the new wound and The Joker immediately saw the swelling reduce a fraction. He let her go and sat back on the couch.

Desiree looked from him down to her leg. To her surprise, the leg felt better. The throbbing subsided even though the cut stung a lot. She could handle stinging better than throbbing. The thick blood leaked down her leg and soaked into her pants. She was sure she looked ridiculous standing there with her pants half-mast, a dazed expression on her face, and a wound that was seeping blood at a steady pace.

"You were going to get a blood clot you idiot, don't think I'm doing something nice." The Joker said the last word like a normal person would say a swear word. "If you died now, I wouldn't get to play anymore. Considering our fun hasn't even begun, that would mean-uh…that I spent a lot of time on you for no reward."

"Reward?" Desiree asked, uncertain.

The Joker laughed at her naivety. He stood up and started circling her like a shark. He traced the knife over her skin. It was still covered in her blood. When he got in front of her again, he stepped forward and pulled her body into his roughly. She didn't dare resist him. He pushed the hair away from he ear with the tip of the knife. "Now think Des, what-uh, could a man like me want with a girl like you?"

She could taste bile in the back of her throat at the thought of what he might be implying. "No. You can't do that. I won't…" she whimpered. In the back of her head, she was sure that he'd get whatever he wanted whether she liked it or not. Actually, she was certain that he would be pleased if it were on the 'or not' side.

He leaned in so that his red-stained lips brushed her earlobe. "Like you have a choice."

She jerked her body away, stumbling backwards because he let her go more easily than anticipated. "I do have a choice," Desiree said defiantly. "I will not be your whore, your toy, or your anything."

The Joker started laughing quietly, but as it went on it got louder and crazier. Desiree got more and more afraid by the second. Suddenly, he stopped laughing. It was so sudden that it made her jump. "You are whatever I say you are!" He lunged forward and grabbed her throat with a vice-like grip. Her windpipe was being crushed under his unforgiving fingers. He turned her and slammed her face-first into the wall so hard that the sheetrock buckled a little from the force. Using his knife, he cut down the back of her shirt, not bothering to be all that careful. A couple times he went into her skin and she cried out in pain. When her back was exposed he took the knife and jabbed it into the skin over her left shoulder blade. She started to struggle, making the cuts jagged and deeper. But she didn't understand that it was making it worse, she just wanted to get away. When The Joker finished with the cutting he reached to the table where a cup of writing utensils sat. He grabbed a black pen and bit the back end off. He dumped the ink into the wound and rubbed it in.

He stood back and Desiree collapsed onto the floor. Her shoulder was bleeding and hurting. It was her bruised one. She was sure the Joker was intentionally causing pain on top of pain. She hunched over, hands wrapping around her torso because her shirt was gone and she was so scared that curling in upon herself was the only thing she could think to do.

The Joker looked down at his handy work. It was beautiful. The jagged 'J' carved into her shoulder was smeared with blood and ink. It would mark her for the rest of her short, pathetic life. No tattoo removal would get that out. No matter what, she would be sure to remember him forever and would have to live with _his _mark on her body.

He grabbed her hair and pulled it back so that she had to look up at him. "Tell me Des, who do you belong to?"

Desiree swallowed back everything she wanted to say and tried not to choke on the next words that came out.

"You."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

{A/N: All I gotta say is...ouch. I hope you all liked it. For a second there did it seem like he was being nice? I'm sorry about that, but the means justified the ends if that helped.}


	8. 7: Trap door

**{A/N: Sorry it's been a while, but I've been swamped with homework and have had zero time to do anything else other than sleep. So this one is hopefully going to make up for that. Don't think of it as an entering of a new character, but the extreme pissing off of a old one. The next few should be pretty action-ish...depending on how I write it out. I don't know yet, I just keep the basic guidelines in my head.}**

**________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

**7: Trap door**

Desiree crouched where she was for a long time. The Joker sat on the couch, where he was at the beginning of the whole incident, watching her. She was huddled upon herself as if her own body was a tiny fortress. He was reminded of children; when they had nightmares they got under the covers like no force in the world could penetrate that shield. Oh, how wrong they were.

"Des, now that we've gotten today's uh-discipline lesson out of the way, come here."

The girl looked up at him with the most hateful expression he'd seen in a while. It made him warm inside. She lifted to her knees and got up slowly due to the aches in her body and her mind's unwillingness to move toward something that was clearly dangerous. She came to his side though and eased onto the couch.

The Joker wanted to laugh, really he did, but now was the time to drill into her mind a little more. "So…tell me about your family." He crossed his ankle over his knee and put one curled fist under his chin, feinting that he had a serious interest in the matter. Really, he didn't, but it would give him more leverage against her. More to…use against her.

Desiree put on her best poker face. She thought that if perhaps she could convince The Joker that she had no family that her dad couldn't be put into danger. "I don't have any family."

The Joker laughed. He laughed because she was just so stupid. Did she really think him so dense? He made a tut-tut sound. "Oh, you little liar."

"I am not lying," Desiree snapped through gritted teeth.

"Yes, you are. Right at the beginning of our little uh-spat, I suppose you'd call it, you only came over to me when I asked how your family was. Now, do you think you would have done that if you didn't have a family? So, who are you protecting, hmm?"

Desiree kept her mouth shut. He could stab her a hundred times or remove each of her teeth with a pair of pliers and she would never let The Joker know about her dad. The Joker saw it all over her face too; a defiant acceptance that wasn't easy to break. She would take the punishment and never give up whoever it was in her family that she didn't want him to get to. Luckily enough, these days you could find just about anything you really wanted to with computers and good old fashioned of violence.

"All right," he began, ready to let this go for now. He knew this battle was hers, but it was his war. "I have things to do tonight. You are going to stay here and be good again."

"Please, no more drugs!" Desiree begged.

The Joker snickered at her large eyes, all full or fear and pleading. He loved that in a woman. "Relax. I'm just going to have some of the men stay behind to keep and eye on you instead."

Desiree choked. _The men?_ The Joker's insane lackeys? Wonderful. She said nothing though as he got up and left, taking the paper on the table with him on the way out. She heard a lock tumble on the deadbolt and knew she was trapped for another night.

Outside, The Joker's men stood at attention. He surveyed them wearily. The last one he stepped closer to. "You. I want you to find me some information about my new friend's family. Her name is Desiree…something. Figure it out, find her family, bring me the information." He left them, stalking down the hall and to the stairs. He was off to have some more fun.

Desiree stared morosely at the door. There was nothing to do but wait…wait for _him_ to come back. He was so detestable and horrible that she didn't even want to think his name. Well, his 'stage name'. What his real name was, she was sure that anyone who had never known it was long dead. The Joker didn't seem like a guy who left loose ends. Any link to The Joker's past would be a key to his undoing no doubt, so surely The Joker knew that.

Desiree's shoulder burned with pain. Just what had he done back there? She was a little afraid to look. She could still feel her warm blood dripping down her back steadily. She reached around and touched her fingers to that line of her own life-sustaining fluid. When she pulled her fingers back the tips were covered with red liquid tainted with black ink. Her frown felt so pronounced, even to her, that she corrected it. Her face pulled up to neutral and she stalked to the bathroom. She grabbed her discarded work shirt, resigning to put it back on now that the other was ruined. It was very awkward trying to see her back in the mirror. If there were two it would be easier, but no such luck. She had to crane her neck to see, which was hard. She saw it though, and her stomach lurched. She threw herself to the floor next to the toilet and threw up into the porcelain bowl. She kept vomiting until there was nothing left, not that there was much since she hadn't eaten since yesterday, and she was dry heaving. When she calmed down she wiped the tears from her eyes. She hated throwing up, but she couldn't help it. The fact that he had _carved_ into her and that she would always have this stark and sickening reminder of her time with him would haunt her. She paused…if she in fact lived through this. Would she get out of this more or less intact?

She heard the lock to the door tumble and someone enter. Quickly, she put on her shirt to cover up. She got to her feet, using the sink as a support, and went out to see who it was. Had The Joker come back so soon? Did he forget something? She saw a large lurking figure that was definitely not The Joker. She moved into the room, keeping to the perimeter cautiously. He was carrying a white plastic bag.

"It's food," he told her, eyeing her in a very unsettling way. Desiree hugged herself, knowing that she didn't have a chance against a man so dangerous looking. She saw that he left the door open, but tried not to stare. A plan began to formulate in her head. If she could distract him and escape, then she could get out and get to her dad. From there she would get him out of the home and they could run to anywhere far away. The only thing she had to do was to get this guy out of the picture. She wracked her brain before an idea magically appeared in her head. It was simple, providing that the shopping bag contained what she needed. She sauntered over to the man, trying to look innocent, frightened, and starving all at the same time. Not too hard considering the circumstances.

"So, what's in there?" she asked, trying to will her eyes to look like a starving dog that begged for scraps on the street. He held the bag out to her, looking completely unmoved by her plight. What a heartless jerk. Nonetheless, she took the bag gingerly form him, making sure not to touch his hand. She opened it and peeked at its contents. Bingo. She pulled out the soup can and went to one of the cabinets. After a minute of searching she found a badly dented pot and put it on the stove. She pretended to turn the dial to ignite the burner of the gas stove. She did a fake "humph" when it apparently didn't light. She turned to the man who was lighting a cigarette and not paying much attention to her at all. She took the pot in one hand and put the other on her hip.

"Hey, do you think you could help me?" she asked, trying to sound helpless. He gave her a disgruntled look that said he would rather stick his lit Malboro in his eye than do anything for her, but he came over to take a look.

"What's wrong with it?" he barked.

"It won't light," she supplied. He bent lower, cigarette still between his lips. Desiree wished that it really wasn't working and that she left the gas on so that the gas leak would be ignited by the cherry on his smoke and that his face would be burnt to a very nice crisp. He mumbled to himself as he examined the burner some more. Desiree positioned herself behind him casually. She raised the pan over her head and then brought it down on top of his head with considerable force. The pan made a dull clang against his hard skull, ringing afterward for a few seconds. He swayed, a odd look on his face before collapsing to the side. Desiree didn't wait for backup to come to his rescue, she ran for the door. She catapulted down the hall and jumped the stairs two and three at a time. She was out the door in less than ten seconds from leaving the apartment. She heard shouting behind her, but she didn't dare look back. Last time she'd done that she'd nearly been road kill. She just kept going until her lungs burned and her muscles felt like there was acid eating away at them. She remembered stupidly that there was lactic acid in her veins from the lack of oxygenation. The things she thought of in a crisis…biology.

She heard tires squeal as they connected with the street. Desiree saw another car up ahead and ran to it. She wrenched the door open and pulled the man in the front seat out and onto the street. Luckily he wasn't wearing his seatbelt. She shoved herself behind the wheel and clicked the buckle into place. She punched the gas and the car jumped into motion. The Joker's henchmen missed her by inches, the bumpers barely avoiding collision. She ran a red light, then another, and a few stop signs. The Joker's men didn't give up pursuit. They were good at their jobs and knew the consequences if Desiree was not brought back…or if he figured out that she'd escaped in the first place. Desiree cut a corner and mounted the curb on accident. She almost hit a row of newspaper vendors, but she jerked her wheel to the left and was back on the road. The henchmen's car slammed into her and she spun out of control. She held onto the wheel with a death grip to rival any before it before the car rocked to a stop. She was shaking so hard that she was sure that it was the engine, but no, it was running quietly. The men in the car poured out, seemingly all at once. Their guns were leveled at her head; each and every one had a look on their face that would make most grown men have sudden bladder control issues. Desiree swallowed, finding her mouth suddenly bone-dry. When the closest got there he opened the door and jammed the gun into her temple.

"Get…the _fuck_…out of that car you crazy little bitch!" he snarled. Desiree reached slowly down and unbuckled herself. The man got impatient and grabbed her arm. He pulled her out so hard that she fell onto the cold asphalt. It had snowed outside since Desiree had been locked into her new prison. It was that first snow though, the one that never lasted long and turned into slush quickly. Desiree's pants got soaked with the cold water. Her hands got scraped when she hit the ground, and they stung. _"Like I need any more injuries."_ she thought to herself. She breathed out, anticipating every possibility; getting shot, getting dragged back to The Joker's lair, and even a car coming put of nowhere and pulverizing them all to bits. What happened though, she never could have conceived in a million, trillion years.

"You're going to have to deal with me before you shoot her," a low voice warned. It was odd sounding, somewhere between a rasp and a growl, but not like it was his natural voice. The men started, shooting furtive glances at each other as none other that the caped-crusader himself advanced toward them. Desiree couldn't believe it, but he was better that divine intervention. Devine intervention didn't use violence to make its point. She couldn't help the small smile that lifted the corners of her mouth.

The man who was pointing a gun at her looked nervous. "Shoot him you fucking morons!" he commanded.

They all began firing, but Batman was suddenly done. He'd disappeared into the night like he was made of shadows. Desiree was awed. Then he appeared behind the farthest man and disarmed him and knocked him out before the others realized what was going on. Then he was gone again, leaving them all quaking in fear. The next he ghosted on and delivered a punch to his jaw; his head snapped to the side and he abruptly crumpled. Batman moved to the next without hiding again and elbowed him in the throat. The man who was pointing at Desiree was obviously not going to make it through this unscathed. He dropped his gun and took off, cowardly abandoning his subordinates.

Desiree tried to get up, finding it harder than she thought. A leather-clad hand lifted her gently at the elbow until she was on her feet. She looked up at the masked face, only his mouth unobstructed from view. Even his eyes were surrounded by black, unintentionally reminding her of The Joker. She shook off the uneasy feeling that made the hairs at the nape of her neck stand up.

"You're hurt," he stated in that voice that was all too harsh for him. Sure, he moved around in the night to dole out violence, but that was to criminals who deserved it. She had always been a supporter of Batman's efforts. She wasn't an anarchist by any means, but he'd done something that the police force hadn't been able to. He gave them hope.

Desiree wasn't sure what he was referring to. Reading her puzzled expression, he clarified.

"Your back is bleeding…profusely."

She nodded. "It's a long story."

"I've got a few extra seconds. Has it got something to do with these guys?" he asked.

Desiree shook her head. "Well, in a way. It was their boss who gave me all of this." She gestured to her face and body. "I've got bruises that would make you cringe."

His stoic face didn't falter even a fraction of an inch. "Who was it?"

"The Joker," she answered uneasily. Thinking of that murderous bastard put her on edge.

This stunned the man of shadows. His eyes widened and he grabbed her other elbow. "You've been with The Joker. I thought I knew you from somewhere. You're that girl who is missing from the Arkham Assylum escape. Desiree Cavanagh, right?"

Desiree nodded. For the third time in so many days, she heard police sirens calling through the night. They were coming here, no doubt toward the gunshots that had been fired off minutes ago. Batman looked torn.

"What is it?" Desiree pressed.

"You have to come with me…please. I need to know where The Joker is."

Desiree wasn't sure. She had just gotten her freedom and she was supposed to go with a strange man, crime-fighting aside, to god knows where? "I don't know. I'm pretty sure I should go to a hospital."

"Don't worry, I've got someone who can take care of that."

Desiree looked at the men still on the ground. Batman had foiled them all in less time then it had taken her to process what was going on. If she was going to be safe anywhere, it was with him. The Joker was going to be looking for her, why not be with the person who had brought him down the last time?

"Okay."


	9. 8: Between shows

{A/N: I resubmitted this chapter due to some typing errors. I'm not saying they're all fixed, but one very unfortunate one is at least and another minor one. Thanks Yuki Hikari for pointing those out :) }

**8: Between shows**

Desiree sat on the bed in the large and luxurious room she was given. She mulled over the things that had gone on during the past few days over and over again in her head. The few days up to and including this one, had been by far the worst of her entire life. She didn't understand how she survived. She was as strong person in normal society, but The Joker was the predator in his world and everything else was meat. So how did she make it through?

Even this past hour had been a whirl of confusion and puzzlement. The enigmatic Batman had rescued her and brought her to an unspecified location. She wasn't allowed to look, he said it was to protect himself from those who would want to bring him down. Desiree understood and stayed true to her word; she didn't look. She wasn't even allowed to see until she got into the bedroom. He had left her here and told her that there would be someone by to help her in a bit.

------------------------

"Alfred, I know!" Bruce Wayne griped to his friend. He'd been listening to the lecture of the man for ten minutes. He knew better to interrupt, Alfred would say what he had to say no matter what. He had been like a father to him since his own parents had died, so he owed him at least respect enough to pay attention. "I know that bringing the girl here is dangerous, but I had no choice! She knows where The Joker is. I can bring him down again. He could've killed Gordon."

"Master Wayne, I don't think you'd really thought this through. I think you let your vengeance for Rachel's death get in the way of your seeing things clearly. For all we know, she could be in league with him. How would he have gotten out otherwise?"

Bruce sighed. "The tapes- security tapes from Arkham showed a male staff member opening the door, not her."

"Oh, and there never has been such a thing as more than one person going in on the same crime?" The butler, by title only, picked up a medical kit that was sitting on the desk of computers and monitoring systems. He was to go tend to the girl. Thank god he'd been asked.

_"If master Wayne had done it himself, she'd come out looking like the bride of Frankenstein,"_ he thought to himself. "I just want you to determine whether you're doing this to help people anymore or if you only want revenge because the woman you loved died."

"Killed, Alfred. The Joker _killed_ her."

"Yes, sir. You're not the only one who remembers."

Alfred left his young ward, going to a small room that Bruce normally slept in when his crime-fighting nights wore him out too much to get home. He spent a lot of time in that room. It was dark and musty before Alfred had fixed it up, now it was bearable. He knocked lightly on the door. He heard a small voice invite him in. The girl in question was sitting on the left edge of the large bed, looking down at her hands in lost way. She looked ragged and like she was kept in a dirty pit for a few days.

"So who are you, if you don't mind me asking?" Desiree questioned, looking up at him. He got a sympathetic look on his face when he caught sight of hers. No doubt it was the extensive bruising and bleeding. "Do you help Batman?" she continued.

He nodded, pulling a chair over to sit in front of her. "Well yes, in ways. I help him as much as he lets me, which has been less and less these days."

Desiree nodded. Batman didn't seem like the type to accept help, so why was this man here? "You know who he really is- I mean, under the mask and miles of leather?"

Alfred chuckled, the girl was likable so far, but he'd keep his guard to make sure. He wasn't a fool. "Are you going to ask?"

"No, I like the idea that he's some impervious super hero that always prevails over evil, learning about the man would take away from that." It was the truth. She didn't want to know who Batman was…she just liked that he was out there to protect people.

Alfred's brow crinkled as he took her face lightly in his hand and turned it to look at the bruise. What and odd girl. Most people would give their right arm to find out the identity of Batman, but not her. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

Alfred stared at her face; it was honest to the core. "Where else are you hurt? I was told you might be needing some suturing."

"My back…and maybe my leg, I'm not sure," she told him.

"Alright, and when I'm done you can get cleaned up if you wish. So if you would show me your injuries…" He was a little unsure because obviously have to remove some clothing for him to get to them. It was up to her whether she was too bashful. Desiree was cautious, but when the man opened the kit he brought with him and it was full of professional equipment, she decided to let him get her taken care of. The only problem was that she wasn't wearing anything under her work shirt.

"Do you mind closing your eyes for a second?" She asked. The man's eyelids shut and he clapped a hand over them. She took off her shirt quickly and placed in front of her, using the sleeves to tie it around her back. There, now she was covered up. "Okay, you can look now."

"Ingenious," he said when he saw her quick solution. "Now let's take a look. You sit backward on this chair here, and I'll sit on the bed. It will make things a bit easier." She moved to the chair after he stood and sat on the bed. She collapsed on to the swiveling chair and crossed her arms on its back.

Alfred glowered at her sliced skin. Along her spine were minute cuts and nicks going nearly all the way down, and the crown jewel of them all was the large 'J' gouged into her shoulder and smeared with black. It was still oozing a bit, and not in a healthy way. The left side of her body was black and blue to the point where it should heave hurt for the girl to even breathe, but here she was, not complaining or crying or even hysteric. She was trying to make small talk. He was reminded of Bruce, always taking his blows and never thinking twice on them.

"This is worse than I thought it might be…" he said slowly. "I'm going to have to clean these up, but only the large one will need stitches. Then we can take a look at that leg. I'm going to give you something so you can't feel the needle, alright?"

Desiree nodded. She trusted the man. He struck her as a man she could not have to worry about. His eyes were blue and clear, his face pleasantly aged, and he had an air of fatherhood about him. Plus, if Batman trusted the man to keep his secrets, what did she have to worry about? Unless maybe, he thought she was a danger to him.

She felt the cooling sensation of alcohol cleaning her wounds. He started with the small cuts that The Joker made when he had cut her t-shirt off her, working gently and caringly. She rested her chin on the back of her hands and sighed. She was finally out of there, she was free. Even if Batman never intended to let her go, at least she was sure to receive medical treatment. When it was time to do the stitching on her shoulder, Alfred gave her a small tap. She had nearly drifted off despite the stinging of the cleansing liquid in her cuts.

"I'm going to give you the shots now and then close this up. Are you ready?"

"Sure thing…"

"Alfred, miss. You may call me Alfred."

She smiled. The name fit him all too well. "I like it. My name's Desiree."

"Well miss Desiree, you are a very good patient indeed."

She went back to resting her head. She felt the first two pricks of the needle, but the two following were only felt by pressure. The spot was blessedly numb. He cleaned it thoroughly, making sure to get deep in there as to avoid infection. This is why he'd given her the anesthetic first, it would have been very painful if he would have cleaned it out first. To his disappointment, he couldn't get the ink out of the wound. It had been there too long. He thought that maybe he could have softened the look of the horrid thing if he could have gotten at least some of it out. It, like The Joker himself, seemed far more resilient than expected. Resigned, he threaded the suturing needle and began to close the wound. It was a hard job to do because of the chaotic manner in which it was inflicted, he could only imagine how much the girl had struggled when he'd done it to her. He felt pity for Desiree; she'd been through hell.

When he was done he prepared to look at her next wound. "Miss, you leg now if you please."

Desiree was fast asleep on the chair. She was exhausted no doubt. Alfred had to tend to the last wound though. There was a lot of blood, so it couldn't be left alone. Desiree's eyes fluttered open. "I'm sorry, I just drifted off." She let out an enormous yawn.

"Understandable," he said in a fatherly tone. He smiled at her sleepy movement. "Do you have another brightly inspired trick so I can get to that leg or am I just going to have to cut the pants?"

"Cut, I think," Desiree shrugged. She didn't really care, they weren't her favorite anyway. "I can live with shorts."

"I do intend on supplying you with a set of new garments. We can't have you catching a cold." He took a pair of surgical scissors and began snipping at the fabric starting at the seam. They stuck to her leg where the blood dried to them, so he had to pull it off. She winced, but said nothing. This was nothing compared to how she got the wounds in the first place. When he got all the way around her thigh, he cut from the cuff up so that he could get the leg off. Her exposed skin was covered in rust-colored flakes of blood. The bruising was much more extensive than her torso, this was bad... "How did you acquire these bruises?" he asked, gesturing to them.

"He hit me with a Buick Riviera." She almost laughed, but didn't. Looking back, it was kind of funny in a twisted sort of way.

Alfred looked incredulous. "I can't see the man driving a Riviera."

Desiree actually grinned now. "It was mine."

They laughed for a full minute straight. The circumstances weren't all that humorous, but the fact that the girl could be so resilient and still have the mind to laugh about it was astonishing. So he laughed with her.

"And what about this?" he asked, pointing to the cut that The Joker had made on her internally-bleeding leg.

"Oh…" she acknowledged, her tone getting much darker. "He uh…tried to stop my leg from bleeding on the inside, so he cut the blood pool open. It helped to relieve the pressure. He said he didn't want me to get a lot and die…probably so he could kill me and not some stupid clot."

He was confused on why The Joker would care, but moved on. He cleaned the wound, numbed it, and stitched it the best he could. It was all he could do for her at the time with these limited resources. Best to let her get cleaned up now. She would probably appreciate a shower.

"You're all done. You can go to the bathroom and clean up now. I have to ask you not to leave this room though, you understand. In the morning master B-Batman…will be in to speak with you. If you need anything, just pick up the phone on the nightstand."

"Thank you Alfred," Desiree said. She was very grateful to him for being so kind, and she truly liked him. He reminded her of her dad before he got sick. Her dad…She would go get him first thing tomorrow after she gave Batman all the information she had. Then, they could get the hell out of her and never ever look back. Gotham City would have to live without the Cavanaughs. After her shower, she fell asleep quickly inhaling the fragrance of men's soap that she had used in the shower. She slept dreamlessly, finally at ease now that she was safe from The Joker.

{A/N: So, once again…sorry for the long update. It's finals next week and I'm really busy. I'll be studying for the next couple of days, and the days after that, so we'll see how much writing I can get done. I hope this was a good chapter, might open up a few new questions and possibilities. I don't really know, I'm winging this whole story. As you can see, I had to include Alfred, because he's awesome and I love that guy. Him and The Joker are my favorites.}


	10. 9: High wire

(A/N: Okay, longish chapter I think. Finals are over but I'm still a little busy because it's right down to the few days before Christmas and I've done zero shopping. So this chapter isn't corrected or even re-read, but I hope it's up to standard for the most part. Anyone catches a correction, send me a message.)

**8: High wire**

"Where is she!?!" The Joker demanded, his voice growling so much that he sounded more beast than man. He was beyond furious, livid, or even enraged; that meant he was more deadly than ever. His men knew this, they sat in their chairs like frightened mice cornered by a tiger. They said nothing, they did not move, and they certainly didn't look at him. One wrong move, and they knew that their life would come to a screeching halt right then and there. "Someone say something before I just kill all of you!"

The man who had been in charge when The Joker went out shuffled in his seat. He was going to have to tell the story. Best he could do was tell it to favor him so the shit storm didn't rain down on his head. He put two fingers up, raising his arm. He felt like he was in god damned grade school again. The Joker nodded him on, looking very short on patience.

"Well, the girl…she tricked Joey to look at the stove, she hit him on the head and got out. Then we chased after her and she car-jacked some guy and tried to drive off, but we kept after her and finally got her to spin out on the road. We got her out of the car and Batman came along and…"

The man stopped. There was no way to spin this to make it look good. They were all screwed…so very screwed.

The Joker walked over and put his shoe on the man's chair, right between his legs. Then he pulled out a blade and started cleaning out the grime from under his nails. "Is that so? Our little friend uh- came to Des' rescue?" he asked. The men nodded. "And you all had no chance to stop him whatsoever?" This time, a collective head shake. "Did you idiots ever stop to think to shoot the girl?" The wide-eyed realization on all of their faces indicated that no, they hadn't thought of that. "See, here's my problem now. Because all of you are too incompetent to think one task all the way through, Batman likely now knows my whereabouts. Does anyone know why this makes me angry?" He paused, inspecting the cleaning job he'd just done, and then the next half second later he had the blade jammed hilt-deep into the man's throat in front of him. He pulled the blade out, watching as the man in front of him choked and panicked, trying futilely to stem the flow of his own blood. The other men watched as their second in command slowly slumped in his seat. When he moved no more, The Joker wiped his knife off on the man's clothes and pocketed it. "Now children, let this be a very important lesson to the lot of you. You uh- make daddy angry and you get reprimanded. Let's hope that you've all learned something and won't let it happen again. What I want you to do now is start making some bombs, use whatever supplies we have because we have to do this as soon as possible. I am going to find myself a scarecrow who has a gift from the wizard for me…"

The Joker paced for a moment, thinking, thinking, thinking. One of the men, the one he'd assigned to find out about Desiree came up to him with papers in his hand. The Joker stopped, turning to him and waiting for his report.

"I found some stuff out about the girl, nothing too out of the ordinary. Desiree Lucinda Cavanaugh, age 22-"

The Joker laughed. "Lucinda? Really? Go on…" he kept chuckling here and there afterward. The kid went back to the papers, picking off the information.

"Uh, she graduated four years back and went to GCC for a few semesters and then dropped out and started working odd jobs until she got in at Arkham. Only family was in an assisted living place. It's Green Hills Assisted Living, off Wilburn Avenue. File said he was put in for Alzheimer's, but not too much more there. Something interesting though…" He handed The Joker a sheet of thick paper. The black rimmed eyes scanned it quickly. He focused on the date. Oh, this was too good. He had to find Des and give her the news.

"Did you uh- find out about any friends?"

"Monica West," he handed The joker another piece of parchment with Monica's picture and address. "She was supposed to be working the floor you were on when you got out. Desiree was in her place for some reason. We need to go pick her up, give the chick an incentive to come back?"

The Joker thought about that. It was a good enough plan, not very original…he wanted Des back soon though. "Make it happen." He grabbed the kid's chin and shook it. "I just love you kids and your newfangled technology."

--------------------

It had all happened so quickly, she didn't even really get how the events had occurred. She told Batman everything; where The Joker was, how to get there, what she had seen while in his lair. Then she went to get her dad he was waiting for her…not her father, The Joker. He sat in her father's old leather study chair that she had specially brought over because she knew her dad loved it so much. He was grinning ear-to-ear, his hands folded when she came through the door to his room. She wanted to scream but didn't, she looked around for her dad, but her was nowhere to be seen.

"Des, I told you that you couldn't get away. You are just another one of my things now. I own you. I possess you."

She inhaled a shaky breath. "Whe-where's-"

"Your father? Dear. Old. Dad. He's not in the picture anymore."

"What did you do?" she demanded.

Suddenly The Joker was behind her, his arm slithered around her neck and began squeezing down until she couldn't breathe. She choked and tears started to stream down her face for fear of what he'd done to her dad. The Joker's free hand smoothed some of the hair out of her face, then stroked it gently.

"Shh…shh…shh sweetheart. I'll make the hurt go away."

Desiree felt a sharp pain in her stomach and looked down to see a knife sticking into her gut with The Joker's gloved fingers curled around the handle. He jerked it over and cut way across her stomach. Des knew she was done for, he'd just disemboweled her.

The Joker laughed loudly, manically. He let her drop to the floor and she lay there, unmoving. She couldn't move at all, only listen to the evil cackling.

Desiree sat straight up in the dark bedroom. Sweat poured off her, soaking the bed and her clothing. She felt hot, but inside she was chilled to the very center of her being. What if he had already gotten to her dad? She had to go get him now. Maybe if she talked Batman or Alfred then she could plead with them to go get her dad. He was no risk to their location of secrets; he hardly even knew who she was. She reached over and picked up the phone. It rang to connect to another line that she hadn't dialed. After a few chimes, Alfred picked up.

"Yes miss?"

Desiree gasped. "I need someone to talk to- I mean, I need to talk to Batman."

There was a pause. "I'm afraid that's impossible."

"It's really important, someone…my dad could die. I need him to talk to me now Alfred, please. It can't wait until morning."

"Very well, he'll be down in a short while."

"Thank you."

Desiree hung up and sat back on the pillows. She hugged her knees over the blankets and watched the door. She had to explain the very second that he came in.

After about ten minutes he came in, fully costumed in his Bat-suit. She stood up, crossed the room, and stood right in front of him. She looked up into his eyes, as serious and determined as her own right now. "I need you to get my father."

"Why?"

"He's in danger. If The Joker finds him then he's not going to bestow any mercy, believe me."

"Where is your father?" Batman questioned in his rasping tone. "I could maybe have him put in a safer place…"

Desiree shook her head. "No, he has to be with me. It's fine, he has Alzheimer's and he won't remember a thing. He hardly remembers me."

Bruce looked at the girl's stony and set expression. She was risking all this for her father who didn't even remember her? She was certainly selfless. He couldn't bring him here though. It was just too risky. Better to get the information out of the girl quickly right now and then get both her and her father somewhere far away. "How about you tell me what you know and then we can get your father and move the both of you out of Gotham?"

That was more than fine with Desiree, just as long as the both of them were safe. "Okay, I'll tell you everything you need to know to take that bastard off the map, permanently."

----------------

Jonathan Crane sat at the clean varnished table, waiting. The Joker had found him indeed and was on his way up to pick up his shipment. Crane had it ready, a big order, to serve whatever destructive purposes it was intended for. He didn't really care, he just wanted the chance to get back at that giant rodent that was Batman. He pulled at the corner seam of the burlap sack that his mask was made from. He pulled it over his head and sat back, waiting for The Joker to enter.

There was a knock before The Joker came in, men in tow. He sat opposite of Crane and smiled. "So uh- is it ready?"

"I've got thirty six gallons of it here; enough to gas an entire square mile."

"Good work Scarecrow, now will this beautiful concoction work if I say…uh-hook it up to a bomb or two?" he asked innocently. Nothing that he ever asked was innocent.

Jonathan Crane's lips stretched into a wide smile. He made a cross sign over his heart. "With out a doubt or your money back." He handed over a control with a trigger and a button. The Joker took it from the Scarecrow's outstretched arm. He turned it over, inspecting it carefully. "You pull the trigger and then push the button at the same time that the bomb is going off and you, my friend, will have one large catastrophe on your hands. I assume that's what you're looking for."

The Joker lifted his eyebrows. "Why, this is just what I wanted Santa."

"I hope that when you get a hold of the flying rodent, that you might consider giving me a minute or two with him?" Crane asked darkly. He tilted his head in his mask, looking like a nightmarish creation out of a horror movie. "I would very much appreciate it."

"We can see what happens, but right now my farm-friendly ally, I have some other things to direct my anarchist attention to."

He got up and signaled for them men to grab the three stainless-steel tanks of gas from the floor. They brought them out into the hall and The Joker gave Crane a wink before shutting the door.

"So where to now, boss?" one of the men with him asked.

"You go set these up, and I'm going to pick up a friend for the party. Des will be thrilled when she gets back."

He rode in silence with the men, only telling them not to screw things up when they dropped them off. Then it was over to Arkham where a certain somebody was getting off their shift. He saw the woman from the picture leaving and he and jumped out of the van's sliding door.

Monica was startled by the noise, but was terrified when she saw who had come to call. "Hello Monica, long time no see sweetheart."

"Holy shit!" Monica dropped her purse and went to run, but The Joker caught up to her in a few strides and clamped a hand to her wrist. "Let me go!"

He began dragging her back to the van. People were coming out of the asylum now, see what the screaming was about. Good, the more publicity the better. He threw her in and hopped in after. The driver sped off, rocketing through the gates and out onto the street. He tuned out the woman's incessant screaming and begging as he began to think. All of the pieces were in place now; it was Des' turn to make a move.


End file.
